


Second Star to the Right

by TellMeLover



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/F, Flashbacks all over the place, Maybe angst, Post-Season/Series 02 AU, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-06
Updated: 2017-07-05
Packaged: 2018-06-06 19:19:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 26,829
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6766615
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TellMeLover/pseuds/TellMeLover
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What if Rumple was the one who saved Storybrooke from the Trigger? What if the Home Office were real? Eighteen months ago Regina Mills was taken by them and it's up to the Swan-Mills family to kick ass, take names and get her back.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Martyrdom Suits Me

**Author's Note:**

> I started watching Once Upon a Time many moons ago, because someone described it to me as: "The 10th Kingdom but more camp" I suspected that such a thing of beauty couldn't possibly exist and I was right. Still, this represents my attempt to reach those lofty hypothetical heights. Hope you enjoy it.

Of the many things that Regina Mills had called her over the past two years, Emma Swan thought idiot was maybe the most hypocritical. The woman hadn’t met a lethal situation that she didn’t run towards with open arms. Emma had thought, especially recently, that she’d made it sufficiently clear that she wasn’t out to destroy Regina’s life, but hadn’t counted on Regina taking the job into her own hands. Which is how she found herself running down main street, after a mayor on a mission.

“Regina, can you just slow down?!”

“Miss Swan, we do not have _time_ for– “

“Will you just _listen_ to me for one second you crazy…”

Emma came to a stop. Regina might have had a point about the whole idiot thing, given where she was about to go with that. Emma had to hand it to her, Regina Mills could do intimidating. Emma had worked out over time that you could trace exactly how bad you’d fucked up to how high that eyebrow went. Right now, it was almost at her hairline.

But Emma had about the same attitude to lethal situations.

“We can’t do this, Regina.”

If it were possible, the eyebrow went higher.

“Excuse me? Defeatism isn’t very Charming-like behaviour.”

“As you seem so fond of reminding me, I’m a _Swan_ , not a Charming. And it’s not defeatism; it’s pragmatism.”

The eyebrow relaxed slightly. Emma let out a breath she didn’t know she was holding.

“Explain,” Regina demanded.

“You’re wiped after that _thing_ that Hook put on you, there’s no way you’ll be able to contain the trigger on your own” she continued before Regina had a chance to interrupt, “which I’m assuming you already knew, given your goodbye to Henry.”

Regina looked down at the mention of his name, transforming into Emma’s least favourite Regina – what she liked to call ‘Martyr Mills’.

“He knows I love – “

 _Called it,_ Emma thought to herself. Although what she actually chose to say was; “Nope”.

“ _Excuse me?”_ Regina screeched and Emma couldn’t help but wince. She didn’t think she’d ever seen the eyebrow this high. _Wrap it up Swan._

“I said: nope. You _don’t_ get to play the martyr here Regina. Henry needs you – if I’m his primary guardian he’ll be a hundred pounds heavier and missing at least three fingers in a month. And I…”

Regina’s head titled slightly. Her voice softer. “What about you, Miss Swan?”

“I... your coffee is better than Granny’s,” Emma said, hoping that her face wasn’t as red as she suspected, “what I _mean_ is, people sometimes need help. In this case, you… are the person that needs the help and I am… that help.”

Regina might have had a point about the ‘idiot’ thing.

This point was not lost on Regina.

“Forgive me if that didn’t exactly inspire me with much confidence.” She was smirking now and Emma felt her face heat up even more.

“You said I was like a magical jumper cable, right? So, let me do my thing and help you – “

“Absolutely not! You call me a martyr?! I will not allow you to die for _my_ mistakes Emma! Besides, if Henry loses you I have no doubt that he’ll resurrect me only to kill me himself.”

“Pretty sure that goes both ways _‘Gina_ ”

The eyebrow was back, but Emma didn’t care. _Calling me by my fist name, she started it._ Before either woman could say anything else, there was a muffled ring of a store bell and a third party struggled over to them.

“She’s right Dearie,” Gold shouted over the rumbling caused by the trigger. The women greeted him as one.

“Rumple.”

“Gold.”

The Dark One smirked but some of the menace was taken out of it by him swaying to and fro. “My apologies for the interruption, but Miss Swan is correct. A statement I’m sure you’re not used to hearing,” he told Emma, who took a step forward. Gold, continued blithely, “not about _helping_ of course, you’d both end up dead… it would perhaps be more accurate to say that you’re not wrong, in the most general sense. You, your majesty, are far too weak to stand any chance against that trigger. That is where _I_ come in.” Emma spared a glance at Regina and was relieved to find chocolate eyes already upon her, the same hint of scepticism.

“Why exactly would you help us?”

“Your plan has too many Charming’s involved for it to succeed. Which means that Bae will be dead, as will… Belle. Worse, my _grandson_ will be left alone. These things are all unacceptable to me.”

“Does the Dark One…?”

“Not in the way that you do, but I can still form… attachments, to people. It feels like love, but I must admit I didn’t experience much of it in my other life. Perhaps one day you will find out for yourself. It is unclear now.” Gold stared at Emma a few moments longer, who was suitably disconcerted by the interaction.

“So what do you suggest?”

“The limited powers of the Evil Queen– “

“ _Former”_ Emma interrupted, this time firmly ignoring the jerk of Regina’s head towards her and the eyes that were no doubt searching for answers.

“Oh very well, the powers of the _former_ Evil Queen are not enough to contain the trigger. Those of the Dark One however?”

 

Emma saw where he was going with this and she agreed. If anyone had the power to stop this then one of the strongest magical beings on the planet was a solid choice. Try as she might she also couldn’t see how Gold would have the opportunity to turn the situation to his advantage and screw them over. There was always the chance he was playing too many moves ahead for her to predict, but if that were the case then worrying was pointless. With that she found it safe to nod towards him and he tipped his hat in response. They had reached an understanding and there was nothing more to be said.

That didn’t stop Regina trying to get the last word.

“Rumple.”

There was a note of reluctant gratitude in her voice that Emma concurred with. She wasn’t completely convinced that Gold could handle the trigger, but at least now they had a fighting chance. Together. He turned and smirked at her.

“Unlike you, dearie, martyrdom suits me”

With that, he twirled his cane around and began to limp towards the mine, whistling tunefully.

 

_FIVE YEARS LATER_

There’s Moe French, Albert Spencer (going by “King George” made him sound like a _total_ loser), Kathryn No… Midas and Frederick –damn it!

Henry Swan-Mills brushed the hair out of his eyes before looking into the binoculars again. If his mom were here right now she’d have already made him get a haircut…

“ _Henry Daniel Swan-Mills! I don’t care if you’re seventeen years old, I will not have you looking like a young ruffian!”_

Don’t go there Henry. Don’t think about Mom, just focus on the mission. Over the past eighteen months the Home Office had stepped up their efforts in Storybrooke and the Resistance were stretched thin trying to find out which citizens had become anti-magic pod people. Which meant that Henry _finally_ got the chance to take on a mission of his own, even if it was just reconnaissance. Which was fancy talk for staying out of the way and just watching, but hey, he got a walkie-talkie – that had just crackled into life. Keeping one hand on the binoculars he picked up the walkie-talkie next to him and pressed in the button.

“…. Author… come in Author… this is Shepard, over– “

“I’m here Grandpa – I mean Shepard, over.”

“What’s happening over there?”

“They’re just coming out of their meeting now.”

“Great, get back over to the library then. You’re needed here.”

“On my way.”

 

Henry got up from his position on the rooftop, shaking out his dead leg until it felt stable enough to put weight on. With that he packed away the binoculars, walkie-talkie and candy bar wrapper (he was his mother’s son after all) and made his way back down to the street. Making a beeline for the library, he barely made it halfway before a voice called his name and he was forced to turn around. Great.

“Hi Mr Spencer, can I help you?”

“The appropriate address is ‘Your Majesty’ boy. Shouldn’t you be in school?” Henry could swear he heard the guy’s jaw click. Good, piss off your target and their attention will be on that, not you. His Ma would be proud of him.

“I’m on summer vacation”

“Really? Then why are you making your way towards the library with such purpose?”

“I like to read” _That_ response was all Mills and Spencer knew it.

“Hmm….”

“Is there a problem here, Henry?”

Ruby stood there, her fingers entwined with Mulan’s. Henry figured he ought to step in before Ruby decided to wolf out on Spencer. The guy totally deserved it but Henry didn’t want her to deal with the consequences.

“I’m good Ruby, just going to the library”

“What a coincidence, us too! This one can’t get enough of the Game of Thrones books” she said, nudging Mulan playfully.

“The series is called ‘A Song of Ice and Fire’ my love, and the political manoeuvring described in them is quite fascinating.”

“The dragons are cool, I guess”

“I would’ve thought that a member of the civil service would have a greater sense of… _propriety.”_ Spencer sneered, gesturing to the Storybrooke PD t-shirt that Ruby was currently wearing. With that Mulan’s eyes narrowed and she took a step forward in warning.

“I can assure you _Sir,_ that I am both a respectful and conscientious member of our town’s police force, and if you…”

Ok Henry, now would really be the time to step in.  

“I’m sorry sir but we ought to be going, the library closes in a half hour and I don’t want to keep Belle waiting after her shift”

“See you later Albert!” Ruby added brightly, practically dragging her girlfriend behind her. Relieved, Henry followed after them.

“My name is King George!”

 

*

 

“Thanks for that Henry”

“Yes, I appreciate you stepping in Henry, it would have been embarrassing had I continued. Mostly for him.”

“Ah no problem guys” Henry said, turning red and rubbing the back of his neck. “I’m just glad Spencer didn’t decide to follow us– “

They were interrupted by the thunk of a knife slamming repeatedly into the collection desk. All three of them whirled round to the sight of Belle playing five finger fillet. Ever since Rumple’s death, the woman had been a little… off. Still, the information that she gained about the Home Office from select citizens of Storybrooke was impressive, even if the level of detail was pretty suspect. After a completed round, she left the knife in the desk and looked up at them.

“Come on, everyone’s already inside.” Without waiting for them she walked further into the library.

“Jesus” Ruby muttered under her breath whilst Mulan elbowed her none to gently in the stomach. Ruby attempted to do the same but Mulan was already on the move.

“Too slow love” she shot over her shoulder, not even hiding her smirk. When she passed Henry she winked at him. Henry shook his head at their antics. Surely _he_ was meant to be the immature teenager here?

 

*

 

“I don’t know what they’re planning yet Whale! I’m too new a recruit for them to trust… no not even Frederick. Would _you_ trust Frederick with your plans?” At the appearance of the latest arrivals Kathryn Midas fell silent. She waited until they’d taken their respective places at the table before starting again. “I think they’ll be more forthcoming at the next meeting, ok?”

“You’re doing an excellent job Kathryn and we’re _all_ grateful” Snow jumped in, while David glared at Doctor Whale.

“Not that this isn’t interesting, but did you call a full meeting just so we could all pat ourselves on the back Snow?” Ruby asked, staring expectantly at the room. Henry had to agree, it was dangerous enough meeting like this, especially in recent months.

“Of course not, we’ve had some wonderful news that we wanted to share. Emma’s coming home!” Snow burst out excitedly.

Before anyone had the chance to react, a monotone voice drifted over from the corner. “There’s been a break in at Marcos” Belle said, not looking at any of them. Henry shared a glance with Ruby while David stepped up “… Belle? How do you–? “ Belle tapped at the earphone that was currently in her left ear. “I listen to the police scanner.”

Henry and, surprisingly, Snow tried not to laugh when Ruby muttered what sounded like ‘absolutely batshit’ under her breath. David shot them an alarmed look. Following the Incident, he only spoke to Belle when he absolutely had to. “I should go,” he said, bringing the meeting to an end. He rushed out without waiting for his deputy, hand instinctively going towards a scabbard that wasn’t there. It didn’t matter whether it was trolls or vandals, he couldn’t help but be the first to rush into action. Ruby rolled her eyes and gave Mulan a quick peck, “go kick ass babe.”

Henry didn’t focus on any of that though. He hadn’t heard any of the conversation after hearing what Snow said.

His Ma was coming home.


	2. Maybe a Couple of Fireballs, Three Tops.

Emma Swan stood in the hallway of a luxurious apartment complex in Cape Cod, eyeing up one door in particular. She’d spent the past two hours arduously working through every other home in an attempt to find her target and Emma was seriously contemplating kicking the door in. She had her phone held up to her ear, but she wasn’t listening to anything Tamara had to say. ‘One last debrief’ in the car had turned into updates every half hour, the conversations getting more and more terse.

“What’s your status Swan?”

“This is the last apartment.”

“Keep me updated.”

With a click the phone disconnected. Emma rolled her eyes and counted to ten in her head, a trick that she’d learned as a child. For a shining period of just over six months, she’d had a case worker who actually gave a damn about her. Sharon Groves was a no-nonsense ex servicewoman and Emma took to her better than any other adult in her life up to that point. Her advice had always been to make your move only when you had assessed the situation fully. For a woman like Emma Swan, this was sometimes a challenging endeavour and one she failed more often ever since coming into contact with the Home Office in general and Tamara in particular. But they had to have someone on the inside and it wasn’t about to be her parents. Emma suspected neither David nor Snow would’ve made it past the first month.

Emma ran the fingers of her left hand over the brass number attached to the apartment door – 301 – while the right hovered near her gun. She just hoped there wouldn’t be any surprises, like the last time. That fucking carpet had almost succeeded in strangling her before Tamara turned up and ‘convinced’ Aladdin to call it off. The sight of the teenage boy thrown into a black van with a sack over his head was sickening, not in the least because Emma knew where he would end up.

Not in a geographic sense, of course. If she knew that, she’d have already blasted through the front door and gotten Regina back, Sharon’s advice be damned. Until then, she had to carry on with this anti-magic corral. Remembering Tamara’s parting words, Emma pulled her gun out of its holster before kicking in the door. Even on a good day, Ursula was not someone you wanted to underestimate.

She stepped through the threshold into the apartment. The décor in varying shades of purple was not quite Emma’s style but she _was_ interested in the large fish tank that took up the centre of the room. Emma tapped on the glass lightly and couldn’t help but smile when the fish darted in different directions. Once, her car had been impounded and she’d spent the entire weekend at a local aquarium until she’d stolen enough money to get it back; Emma had had a thing for fish ever since. Her recollection was interrupted by the arrival of the apartment’s occupant.

“Now doll, don’t tell me you’re with that dreary outfit?” Emma had her gun pointed at Ursula before she’d even turned around. Once she had, she took in the woman, leaning against the doorway in a fluffy black bathrobe. Emma figured that if Ursula had intended something malicious, it would have already happened, so she removed her finger from the trigger but nonetheless kept her gun trained on the larger woman. Ursula noticed and smiled.

“I don’t think you want to hurt me,”

“You’re right, my orders are to take you in alive,”

“I don’t think you want to do that either.”

“Why is that?”

“I have an idea…an arrangement if you will, where I get to walk out of here unscathed. Trust me, it’s a win-win. Your better half would agree, were she here.” Emma only managed to get to five before replying, her trigger finger twitching all the while. She had a sneaking suspicion that her better half would have called her an idiot regardless of the choice she made, but maybe this was the break Emma had been looking for.

 “What exactly would I be getting out of this _arrangement_ for it to be considered a win?”

“Well it’s simple Emma, I’d owe you a favour,” which would admittedly be very helpful.

“To be called in– “

“Yes yes, ‘whenever you want.’ I’m not _Cruella_ doll, give me some credit”

 

This time Emma didn’t even have to count. Pulling her phone from her pocket, she dialled Tamara’s number as Ursula watched on expectantly. On the third ring, Tamara picked up and started before Emma could get a word in.

“What is it Swan?”

“She’s not here.”

“Excuse me?!”

“It’s the right apartment but she’s not here, her stuff’s missing too. Must have just missed her. I’ll take a quick look around, see if there’s any clue as to where she’s gone,”

“Damn – yeah, ok. I’ll pull the car around the front, don’t be too long.”

 

Once she hung up Emma sighed, not for the first time wondering whether she’d made the right decision. She accepted that she was the only one who could get away with this double agent business and once they got Regina back it would all be worth it, but it was a dangerous game that she was playing and she couldn’t help but think that her luck would, at some point, run out.

“Give her this, doll.” Ursula drawled, a printout for a flight booking already in her hand. Emma took it and read through it sceptically.

“Florida?”

“Far too humid, the last place I’d _actually_ be. More importantly, it’s miles in the opposite direction of my intended destination.”

“How exactly do I get hold of you once I decide to call in my favour?”

“You possess magic, don’t you? Just call my name near any body of water – I’ll hear it.”

“Alright, make sure you leave out the back. Sorry about the door.” Emma spun on her heels and made to leave, tucking the printout into the back pocket of her jeans but Ursula was suddenly holding onto her arm.

“Thank you for this Swan… truly.” Emma turned around to spare one last glance at the sea witch. For all her bravado, she could tell the woman was scared. Emma knew she had a right to be. It didn’t matter how dangerous her situation was, all that mattered was getting Regina out of that place. With a new sense of resolve, she nodded to Ursula and left.

 

*

 

Emma cursed as the heavens opened as soon as she left the apartment complex. Dashing across the parking lot, she wrenched open the car door and jumped in, ignoring Tamara’s smirk. “You’re dripping on the seats,” she pointed out, unnecessarily.

“Shut up – hey, I found this on Ursula’s laptop. She’s headed to Florida.”

“Forget about that, we’ve just received new orders,”

“And what are these new orders?”

“We’re going back to Storybrooke.” Emma’s head shot up. She wasn’t joking.

“Thought that might get your attention Swan. The situation there is worse than ever, so we’re being called in to… _smooth_ things over.” Emma sighed internally, wondering what her parents had done now. Their ‘resistance’ – she’d be having words with them if they’d gotten Henry into any danger. At least this way, she’d be able to see her boy. Ruby and Mulan too. As Tamara drove the car back to the rental place, Emma shot off a quick text to Snow letting her know what was going on, with a couple of threats thrown in for good measure.

 

*

 

They were about thirty minutes out from Storybrooke, standing on the deck of the Jolly Roger. The ship’s captain stood at the helm, coat billowing out behind him. Hook probably thought it made him look dashing. Emma was reminded of a weasel wearing too much eyeliner. Not for the first time she’d cursed the Home Office’s more hypocritical attitudes regarding magic. If the magic user was of no use to them, or spoke out against them then they were carted off to be imprisoned and tortured. A man with a magic ship to get them from A to B so much the quicker in their tour of terror? Well _he_ was given a company ID. Bastard.

Surprisingly, Emma was not the only one who had noticed this little discrepancy. Beyond throwing his payment at him whenever a job was completed, Tamara refused to interact with Hook at all, preferring to glare from a distance instead. Emma wondered whether this hatred could be turned to her advantage once the time came. Perhaps even the woman herself could be useful. In another life, Emma could see them getting along; she was a good partner, long-winded speeches aside. What was it that made Tamara so completely anti-magic? If only Emma could work that out, she would stand a much better chance of taking the Home Office down from the inside, in a way that they would never recover. After all, a longstanding agent such as Tamara had to know where the (literal) bodies were buried. Looking up, she realised that Hook was staring – more like leering.

“I said two months is a long time to be away Swan. What did you miss most about Storybrooke?”

Hook must’ve thought he asked in a sympathetic enough manner, but the man lacked the necessary emotional capacity in order to pull it off. Emma chose to ignore him and he eventually got the message. But he was right about one thing, two months _was_ a long time and the question got her thinking. About one morning in particular, out of the hundreds that she’d experienced over the past five years in a small town in Maine.

 

_TWO YEARS AGO_

Emma smiled as she felt arms wrap around her waist and lips brush her ear before speaking, “what exactly do you think you’re doing?”

“I’m making you breakfast, even _I_ can manage pancakes.”

“You’ve been at work all night dear.”

“I’m aware – I’m going to bed as soon as you’re done. Well…maybe not _as soon as_ you’re done,” Emma said, turning around in Regina’s arms. The woman herself smirked, pulling Emma into a soft, unhurried kiss, her hands moving from Emma’s waist to the kitchen counter in order to keep them upright and Emma settling hers firmly in Regina’s raven locks.

“Oh my god will you two please get a room?” They pulled away from each other but Emma couldn’t help but tease Henry just a little further.

“Will you please get a better sense of timing?” The light (not light at all) punch she received in the shoulder from Regina was worth it for the look on Henry’s face as he attempted to splutter out a reply. Something he gave up on altogether when he noticed the stack of pancakes already at his place on the table. With more speed than any fifteen-year-old had a right to display on a Saturday morning, Henry was seated with his mouth full of pancake.

“Deez arb really good Ma” he said, chewing furiously. Emma laughed at both his antics and Regina’s disgusted expression. She certainly hadn’t taught her little prince such shoddy table manners, but it appeared that Swan genetics were impossible to overcome. Although as she watched the blonde plate Regina her own mighty stack of pancakes, she had to admit the situation wasn’t something she was entirely displeased with. She took her plate from Emma and thanked her before going to sit at the table, Emma joining her after switching the burner off.

Regina and Henry made plans for the next ten minutes, centred on a possible visit to the stables later in the afternoon. Once Regina noticed that she hadn’t heard Emma’s (usually loud) input once during the entire conversation, she looked over to see her girlfriend with her head resting on the table, hair fanned out in every direction and snoring lightly. Perhaps the stables could wait until tomorrow. 

 

_PRESENT_

 

Her family. That’s what she missed the most, but it wasn’t something that could be fixed simply by returning to Storybrooke. Emma looked up, Hook was looking out to sea while Tamara was checking her phone, no doubt for more information on what they’d have to ‘smooth over’ in Storybrooke.

She was going to find out everything she could about the Home Office. She was going to get Regina back and together they were going to burn it to the ground – mostly Regina, she deserved it and Emma was perfectly happy to play cheerleader in this scenario. Maybe a couple of fireballs, three tops.

But first, Emma had to go home and see their son.  

 


	3. There's No Money in Lounge Singing

Emma felt it as soon as she stepped across the threshold of 108 Mifflin Street. Magic. It was calling out to her, and not just any magic; an intoxicating blend of hers and Regina’s that relaxed her and made her feel safe. Made her feel like she was home. Of course, a home with the added benefit of the strongest magical barriers this side of the Enchanted Forest, but that meant she could take off the damn bracelet. Definitely worth the journey through the forest under the cover of darkness to make sure that no-one from the Home Office saw her.

 

_EIGHTEEN MONTHS AGO_

 

“Babe, it itches.” They were in the mayor’s office, Regina perched on the desk whilst Emma paced, rubbing her wrist.

“In a few moments it will do a lot more than _itch_ Miss Swan.” The use of ‘Miss Swan’ along with Regina’s tone clued Emma into her girlfriend’s mind set. Of course, she wouldn’t be Emma Swan if she didn’t push Regina’s buttons a little more than was sensible.

“Are you sure it’s real silver? Because I… am kidding, totally kidding please don’t turn me into a frog.” It was present, but Regina’s smile was far too small for Emma’s liking.

“It’s an improvement on what my mother had me wear throughout my childhood, trust me.”

“Well sure but you’ve got much better taste than her. Case in point” Emma said, gesturing to herself. Regina’s mirth was even briefer than the last time.

“Perhaps, but sometimes our tactics are more similar than I’m comfortable with.”

Emma made her way over to Regina before she’d even finished talking. She stepped in between the woman’s legs and wrapped her arms around her neck. Regina said nothing more, so Emma took her cue.

“You are not your mother.”

“But…”

“Nope. Look, I’m not saying you haven’t done bad shit Gina.”

“Is this supposed to be making me feel better?”

“It is actually, if you’ll just listen to me. Look, I _know_ you’re sorry for what you’ve done. I know that because I’ve witnessed you trying to make amends for everything for nearly three years. Admittedly, sometimes more successfully than others. The kid knows it too. Also maybe my parents but like you said I’m supposed to be making you feel better…” Try as she might, Regina enjoyed that one.

“There’s that smile. At first glance, yeah, this might look the same” Emma said, raising her arm to indicate what she meant, “but your mom used this spell as punishment. You’re using it as protection.”

“She used to make the same distinction.”

“Then respect me enough to know that _I_ understand the difference. We have to beat them Regina, which means we _have_ to do this.” Regina sighed and rested her forehead against Emma’s.

“You are right, Miss Swan. Which occurs far too often lately. What’s happened to my idiot?”

“She entered into a war with an evil organisation and a relationship with a prickly mayor.”

“Prickly, _hot_ mayor,”

“Won’t hear any disagreements from me,”

“Darling, this will hurt,” Regina sighed, arm poised over Emma’s but allowing her one final chance to back out.

“You can kiss it better.”

 

_PRESENT_

 

Making her way through the dining room and into the foyer of the mansion, Emma rubbed her arm, remembering clearly the stinging sensation and… what happened afterwards. Suddenly she could hear a rapid thudding coming down the stairs and a distinctly seventeen-year-old blur launched itself at her.

“Ma! You’re home!” Emma clutched her boy as tightly as she could, trying to swallow down the hot lump that had settled in her throat. Her hands moved across every inch of him, her many visions of this moment being replaced by the real thing. Until Emma reached something that she couldn’t help but laugh at and hadn’t noticed as he came down the stairs too quickly.

“Kid, you _need_ to get a haircut”

“Ma…”

“I’m serious, your mom comes back and she sees you looking like Dave Grohl she’ll kill me.”

“I don’t think Mom knows who Dave Grohl is.”

“Not the point, Henry. God I’ve _missed_ you.”

“I’ve missed you too Ma. How was Atlantic City?”

“She’d moved on to Cape Cod. Apparently there’s no real money in lounge singing anymore.”

“Still on the East Coast though.”

Emma leaned back slightly to take him in. She remembered the arguments with him, the sleepless nights when Henry would sneak out on ‘reconnaissance’ missions in the first few weeks following Regina’s abduction. Like his mothers, Henry was stubborn to the point of recklessness. The difference was, he’d never experienced the failures and defeats that tempered Emma or Regina – his absolute belief in the power of good against evil would one day get him killed if he continued on his own, without back up. Emma just hoped that Regina would see things the same way, but seeing how smart their son was reassured Emma she was doing the right thing.

“It doesn’t mean anything concrete kid, but it is an indication of a pattern. I’m looking into it. How’s things on your end?”

“They don’t trust Kathryn enough yet, so the information we have is limited. There’s no real surprises though, everyone who you’d expect to be pro Home-Office is.” Emma did the calculations in her head.

“So about a quarter of the town?”

“Pretty much.”

“Damn.”

“At least they’re not making any obvious moves.”

“Just a matter of time Henry.”

“You used to be a positive person,”

“I don’t recall _ever_ being considered positive, I think you’ve got the wrong mother…” both of them lasted mere seconds before bursting into laughter. “… Yeah, you _definitely_ couldn’t consider Gina positive.” Henry sighed, sobering at the thought.

“Do you think she’s ok Ma? I don’t mean ok… _obviously,_ she wouldn’t be. Just… you know, not–“

“I know what you mean Henry. Your mother is the strongest person I know. She’s still giving them hell, whether it’s in her best interests or not.”

“Yeah?”

“Absolutely. Now I’m going to bed, some of us have work in the morning.”

 

*

 

“Could you please stop doing that?” Emma smirked and continued to tap her Sheriff’s badge against the dashboard for a few more seconds.

“Ah come on Mulan, you know you’ve missed me.”

“I grieved your absence on a daily basis Swan.”

“I think you’ve been with Ruby too long.”

“I disagree. She wants to know if you’ll come to dinner tonight, you and Henry.”

“Free food? She knows me too well.” Mulan smiled at that, there wasn’t a person in Storybrooke who wasn’t aware of Emma’s committed relationship to food. Even that Home Office woman.

“I believe she’s concerned about what Regina will do should she return to find you malnourished.”

“I am more than capable of looking after myself,” at Mulan’s sceptical look, Emma made an amendment. “Granny’s does take-out.” Mulan began to laugh and soon after Emma joined her. They were still laughing when the police radio crackled into life.

“Sheriff, there’s been a break in at Marco’s.”

“Thanks Belle, we’re on it” Emma took the patrol car out of park and went into an immediate U-turn, speeding towards the handyman’s store.

“That’s the third time in two weeks… the lost boys are getting restless.”

“I know the feeling.”

“I still don’t understand why you employed her,” Emma understood that Mulan was not speaking out of pettiness. If a decision made little strategic sense to her then her deputy would be the first to call it out. Repeatedly.

“It was between her and Frederick and I’d rather someone who doesn’t want me murdered in my bed.”

“You think she doesn’t want you murdered in your bed?”

“I do, but I think Belle has a better chance of succeeding if I don’t keep an eye on her,” Mulan had to smile at that one.

“Point taken.”

“How’s she been recently?”

“Not much change, there is this new thing with a knife… you’ll see.”

“At some point I’d like for at least _one_ aspect of my life to not be completely crazy.” Emma said, fully aware that she was about to chase a bunch of teenagers who were born in a fairy-tale land for shoplifting.

The ‘lost boys’ were neither entirely made up of boys, nor did they have anything to do with Neverland. In fact it was Henry who had given them their collective name, the children who had lost parents in the most recent Ogre Wars, who had little support and even fewer options. Much like the current Sheriff of Storybrooke, at one point in her life. She’d decided to look out for the kids as much as she could, but that couldn’t mean turning a blind eye when they broke the law. Especially if they were going to do it so poorly. Emma tutted at the sight of six of them leaving the store, in no particular hurry. Amateurs.

 

Emma pulled up directly in front of the store and both she and Mulan exited the car, running after the group. To their credit they knew to scatter at least, taking off in various directions. Though Emma wasn’t born yesterday and she’d already picked out the leader. After approximately five minutes of straight running, Emma thought she’d lost him but spotted him sitting on a bench on the pier. Thank God, she wasn’t getting any younger and a chance to get her breath back would be welcomed. She approached him slowly, convinced that he was aware of her but for whatever reason choosing to stay put.

“Hi, I’m Emma.” She was met with silence. Unaffected, she sat down next to him, taking in his scruffy, greasy mane, the beginnings of rather sparse patches of facial hair and the tatty clothes. Overall, he couldn’t have been much older than Henry. Or Emma, back in the days when she was living in her car.

“We’re not doing names?”

“Not with police.”

“Fair enough. Though it’s a small town, I could find out if I wanted to,” the boy scoffed at that but didn’t say anything more, so Emma continued. “Why’re you targeting Marco? The guy’s a carpenter, you’re not going to be able to transport any of his goods easily. I mean you’re not even using booster bags.”

“Know a little something about shoplifting do we Sheriff?” Emma ignored his smirk, not willing to bite.

“I have some experience. Enough to know that _your_ work is sloppy. At best.” The silence dragged on but Emma was willing to wait. She had faith that Mulan was tracking down the others while she sat here.

“He’s working with _them.”_

“Them?”

“The Home Office.” Emma sucked in a breath. She knew the Resistance had no idea of this, in fact her parents were planning to approach their old council soon, despite Emma’s objections.

“How do you know?”

“Overheard a conversation between him and King George. Old Marco’s been selling anyone he ever knew down the river for _months_ now. He’s been off ever since he found out what happened to his son. And last time Marco got pissy about his son’s safety we were trapped in a curse for 28 years. Look Sheriff, none of us like magic much either, not like it’s done _us_ any good. We’re the kids the fairy godmothers never seemed to get around to. But the mayor, she _helped,_ and they took her… and I know that ‘breakup’ between the two of you was bullshit too,” he threw in for good measure.

Emma burst into laughter at the kid’s audacity. The Resistance had been told of course, but the general populace of Storybrooke fully believed the extremely public ‘breakup’ between Emma Swan and Regina Mills. Personally, she had thought they’d been too dramatic, Regina especially. The mayor seemed to take great enjoyment in detailing every single one of Emma’s flaws. Her biggest struggle had been attempting to keep a straight face throughout the entire thing.

Emma thought about Regina, and what she would do in this situation and she came to a resolution.

“Keep it up kid.” He whirled around and faced her, unable to hide his shock.

“What?”

“Look, I can’t ignore a crime being committed and I _am_ going to have to keep following you like this, but given the overworked nature of small town policing and the lack of evidence it is unsurprising that I’ve made no arrests. And that’s what I’ll say whenever I’m asked, as long as you cause as much mayhem as possible for our enemies and pass on anything you can to me.” The boy took in Emma’s words, contemplating the unspoken deal she had offered to him.

“I think we can help each other Sheriff.”

“I think so too. Pleasure doing business with you kid.” Nodding at her morning’s success, Emma dusted herself down and got up.

Maybe there’d still be bear claws at Granny’s.


	4. The Trouble With Ruby Lucas

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I took another pass at the first three chapters too. Nothing massive or even minimally important to the plot has been added or changed, just letting you know in case that kind of thing interests you. Enjoy.

Ruby Lucas sat in the dark of Granny’s, taking in the two glass tumblers on the table. There should have been four. She’d suggested it to Emma, after dinner: to drink copious amounts of whiskey together and tell tales, as they had so many times in the past. Emma had politely declined, citing Henry as the reason and Ruby understood. Eighteen months and she still found herself beginning to form texts throughout the day before realising her best friend had no way to read them. That _fucking_ Home Office. Sometimes, she thought back to how it was before the curse, when everyone just knew her as Ruby. Sure, they’d only ever saw her as the waitress with the hair too red, skirt too shirt and the dreams too big, but it was better than looking at her like a murderer. Worse, an _animal._ She’d wager her body count was smaller than all the fucking _knights_ of the Enchanted Forest _,_ swinging their swords in the name of good. And don’t even get her started on the royals, who sentenced people to die in the name of their own selfish causes. Emma was right, the entire thing was _bullshit_. That’s to say nothing of what had happened to Regina and those like her, people with magic. She could handle the stares and whispers, even the outright threats, but if it were Mulan in that place – well she didn’t think she’d have managed to stay half as sane as Emma Swan, that’s for fucking sure. Ruby suddenly hissed, opening her palm to let the jagged shards of glass fall. She took in the crimson tributaries that flowed from the various cuts, both deep and shallow, the pain bringing her to her senses. It wasn’t the first time in recent weeks that her anger had gotten the better of her.  

“Sitting alone in the dark never did anyone any good, girl” came the gruff voice of Granny, who shuffled into the room with a candle held in front of her. Ruby closed her fist, she wasn’t about to let Granny know just how much she was struggling, she’d never hear the end of it. Mulan followed behind her and fixed Ruby with an unreadable stare. Ruby sighed and focused on the pair of them, as much as she was able through her drunken haze.

“Emma said the Home Office are escalating things in Storybrooke. ‘Smoothing things over’, she called it.”

“Aye, that makes sense, Snow and Charming haven’t exactly been _quiet_ in their efforts” Granny replied, while her girlfriend remained silent. _Making one’s opinion known is appropriate in only two situations my love. The first is when it is asked for. The second, is when you have the only necessary point to be made._

“You’re questioning our leaders?” Ruby asked. She never thought she’d see the day.

“You can wipe that smirk off your face girl. In the privacy of my own home I’ll question whoever I like, _all_ I like.”

“What would you have us do differently?” Ruby just had to hear this.

“For starters, the boy shouldn’t be involved. He’s too young.”

“Your brothers were younger than Henry when– “

“When they all _died_ Ruby. I’d have thought Emma would have more sense… when Regina finds out –”

“It is something that Emma herself has considered at great length,” Mulan interrupted, trying to stop the argument before it began. She was not successful in this endeavour.  

“Are you suggesting that Emma doesn’t know what’s best for her own son?” Ruby asked, through gritted teeth.

“I– “

“I think you were,” Ruby began, ignoring her, “I think you’re forgetting what I was like at that age. There wasn’t a _single_ thing you could tell me that I didn’t already know. This way, Emma knows that he isn’t about to sneak off and get himself _killed._ ”

“Does she? How long was she gone this last time, two months? That girl should be the one to lead the resistance, not her parents. The type of war Snow and Charming are fighting is not the one we’re facing. Emma’s got a mind for strategy if ever I’ve seen one.”

Ruby bit her lip. Usually, an admission as big as _that_ would’ve been enough to get her to stop. Usually. The chair scraped loudly as she stood up. Mulan’s eyebrow rose incrementally.

“If you think for one second I wouldn’t defend my best friends’ son with my life then you’re an idiot. Besides, who else could’ve taken her place, the _Charmings?”_

“She _is_ a Charming!”

“She’s a _Swan!_ That’s the name she chose for herself! You of all people should understand how important that is!”

“Breathe, Ruby…”

When did Mulan get in front of her? How did she move across the room so quickly, without her noticing? What…

“My love, your eyes have turned yellow. _Breathe.”_

Yellow? Well shit, the situation was definitely worse than she thought. She did as she was told, breathing in and out deeply several times before stepping forward into Mulan’s embrace. So much for not letting on how much she was struggling.

“I thought Regina had made potions to deal with your Wolf’s Time girl?” Granny asked, her voice soft. Which was never a good sign.

“She did” Ruby said, her voice muffled by speaking into Mulan’s shoulder. “They last three months each. She made six.” She heard Granny swear under her breath. They couldn’t use the cloak, it had been confiscated by the Home Office as an ‘item of magic’. She knew they were hoping that she’d change without it, give them cause to put her down as a ‘dangerous magical being’. Regina knew it too, so she began brewing potions a couple of years ago, in order to supress the worst of the symptoms. For the past eighteen months it had worked, but they all ran out two weeks ago.

“Perhaps Emma could help?” Mulan suggested.

“Regina never got the chance to teach her advanced stuff, proper spells, potion making. Emma basically describes herself as a magical jumper cable, does well with the big boomy stuff, but not much else.”

“That does indeed sound like Swan,” Mulan said wryly, beginning to stroke Ruby’s hair.

“She knows about the potions though. She has a plan, involving me in the woods and the lost boys creating a distraction of ‘epic proportions’ on the other side of town. Her words, not mine.”

“That’s only a short-term solution. One I’m _grateful_ for, but still.” Granny added quickly in response to the rise of Ruby’s head.

“We’ll come up with something more sustainable between the four of us,” Mulan said.

“What about you? I’ve heard of your exploits back in the old land – didn’t feel up to reliving old glories? Taking charge of the Resistance yourself?” Granny suddenly changed tact, whirling to face Mulan. Ruby didn’t appreciate it, but she was calm enough at this point to let it go.

 “I have no influence amongst your people Madam Lucas. They will not listen to me.”

“My people are idiots Mulan, granddaughter aside,” Granny began quietly, “but I’d rather they not all wind up dead. If you know of ways to avoid that, then _make_ them listen to you.”

“I’ll…take that under advisement Madam Lucas.”

 

*

 

The town hall was about a quarter full, but Kathryn still recognised an extra few rows of collapsible chairs had been added. More people who’d decided to give in to their sense of fear and misguided judgement. Seems like the Enchanted Forest was determined to make its presence felt in this realm too. Kathryn masked her yawn with a large gulp of her coffee before checking the time: 4:30am. The things she did in the name of the greater good…

“We have called this meeting to discuss the wolf,” Albert Spencer began, as if presiding over a courtroom. In her head, Kathryn Nolan amended the order of the list of ills that Regina Mills had done to her over the years. Giving _that_ man a law degree was in fact worse that having her married to David Nolan. Figuring that Spencer would go on for a while, she took in those sitting nearest to her. Marco had carved his son out of a magical tree, and while she knew that her father hadn’t asked for his curse, there was also a reason her kingdom was considered amongst the richest in all the realms. That was to say nothing of Frederick. She was unsure whether any trace of the man she once loved remained in this lazy, entitled man. The so-called ‘anti-magic brigade’ were nothing but a bunch of hypocrites.

“Well I think it’s clear what we ought to do to her,” Moe French spoke up, to various noises of agreement throughout the room. Typical – there was no love lost between Kathryn and Rumpelstiltskin, but first him and now Ruby. Everyone and anyone blamed for what went wrong with Belle, other than Belle herself.  She imagined the man hadn’t seen his daughter in a little while, otherwise he’d be doing a _lot_ more than merely talking around the subject; he’d be outright calling for Ruby’s head.

“I quite agree Mr French – the Home Office would classify the Lucas woman as a dangerous magical creature. We need to take action, in defence of ourselves and our children.” The agreement was even louder that time. For _fuck’s_ sake. How could not a _single_ one of these people understand what a shitty argument ‘think of the children’ was?

“What do you suggest Spencer? We storm the diner during the morning rush?” Midas asked. She wondered briefly whether her father was having doubts about the men he’d chosen to get into bed with (again), or whether he was merely speaking from a pragmatic point of view. Kathryn feared it was the latter.

“Of course not, she has support there. Her grandmother for one, and the other… woman.” Spencer replied. God, she hoped she was there for when Mulan got him back for that comment.

“The wolf isn’t the only magical _freak_ in town!” An unidentified voice, shouting from the crowd. Excellent, they’d almost achieved mob status. She was almost glad that nobody expected anything of her here, her ‘views’ would be expressed by her father, or Frederick at a push, because at this moment in time if Kathryn Midas was asked her opinion on the whole sorry business, she wasn’t sure quite what she would say. She _did_ know it would land her in quite a bit of hot water.

“We understand that, and we have a number of things to get to during this meeting. Nevertheless, it has become clear to us through our friends in the Home Office that the situation is more fraught that we could have conceived,” Spencer began, gesturing towards the two women that had joined him at the front of the hall. Tamara kept her eyes focused on him, while Emma sent a conspiratorial wink Kathryn’s way. Thank god, the only one she trusted in the entire Charming dynasty to get the bloody job done had returned.

“What’s the Saviour doing here?!” This time a number of voices posed the question, in tones ranging from mere shock to outrage.

“Friends, I too had my doubts about the Saviour,” Kathryn recognised the slight twitch in Emma’s left eye in her otherwise impassable face when someone referred to her as the saviour… interesting. Spencer continued, “but she has proven herself by joining the Home Office, committed to the fight against magic.”

After that, no one really had any complaints about the blonde woman’s presence. For the next couple of hours, the murder of Ruby Lucas was discussed. It took ten minutes to agree beyond any doubt that the act be carried out and the rest to decide upon the method. When Spencer called an end to the meeting, everyone rose from their chairs and began to tidy the hall, intending to return to their homes and make breakfast for their kids before the school day, or to shower before work. One by one they became your average citizens of Storybrooke, Maine.

“Want to go get breakfast at Granny’s?” Frederick asked, altogether too brightly. He’d not said a word the entire meeting.

“No thank you Frederick, I feel quite ill.”


	5. To Fighting Dirty

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I may or may not have taken liberties with later episodes of OUAT and Lewis Carroll. Oh well.

“Rough night Swan?” Tamara asked with barely contained glee. Emma had become convinced soon into their ‘partnership’ that the woman just enjoyed pissing people off. Now, Emma Swan had come up against many such people in her life and it never ended well. Ask Regina about the state of her apple tree. Which was why Emma considered her restraint to be admirable.

Although she wondered what it would be like to tell Tamara _exactly_ what had transpired last night.

_It was a rough night actually Tamara. I had to lock one of my best friends up in a concrete bunker in the woods so she didn’t murder half the town and get herself killed in the process. In order to stop said townspeople but more importantly the fuckwits who are after her from noticing anything wrong I let a group of angry teenagers spend the night throwing fireworks in the streets – something that we did not ok beforehand Tamara, let me tell you. This meant that in between a seven-foot-tall wolf eyeing me up like I was dinner, I had to field irate phone calls from the very same fuckwits that made the entire situation necessary in the first place. So yes Tamara, I had a fucking rough night. Could you please turn the radio on?_

Somehow, Emma didn’t think that would go down well.

“Didn’t sleep,” Emma grunted, hoping that Tamara would take the hint. But it was not to be.

“You should try some lavender essential oils. I couldn’t sleep when I first got here.” Minutes of silence went by before Tamara sighed. “I know you don’t like me.”

“I liked you just fine until you started this conversation.”

“Don’t deflect, Swan. I get it, people like us don’t trust very easily. I lied to you, pretended to be someone I wasn’t. I wouldn’t like me either. I just wanted to say that I’m glad you’re with us Emma. You’re on the right side.”

Emma turned to take in Tamara: hair neatly pulled into a ponytail in order to keep it out of her face, dark jacket, shirt, shoes… she might as well have a sign over her head announcing the words: ‘on a mission.’

“What’s your story Tamara? Why did you join?”

“Excuse me?” Emma couldn’t be sure; the movement was so slight, but she thought Tamara had gripped the steering wheel more tightly following her question. Was the woman nervous about something?

“The Home Office; why did you join? You know why I’m here, my reasons for wanting magic eradicated. What about yours, _partner?_ ” This time it was obvious, in the way Tamara’s head was held unnaturally still and the almost imperceptible creak that the wheel emitted.  

“Do you know my last name?”

“Can’t say that I do.”

“Liddell – my mother’s name was Alice…”

“Holy shit, like Alice in –?”

“Yeah. Not the original of course, the one who Lewis Carroll created Wonderland for. You see Emma, there are people called Authors. While not inherently magical themselves, they are given a pen by a sorcerer. This pen is imbued with the power to make whatever it writes become reality. Lewis Carroll was one such Author, and when he created Wonderland he created a curse along with it. Little girls who share the name of the first, the object of his obsession, can enter Wonderland following their seventh birthday. It has the unfortunate side effect of driving those little girls mad of course, for one reason or another. My mother was no exception. I spent my childhood years scared for her, scared _of_ her, then eventually embarrassed by her. Imagine my surprise when I learnt that magic was real – that that place was _real._ My mother spent her final years in a psychiatric hospital where no one but me visited her and it was all real. That’s when the Home Office approached me, and I joined them. _That_ is my reason, Swan.”

“Jesus Tamara, I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”

“Why would you? I didn’t tell you this so you’d feel sorry for me Swan, just letting you know the state of things. We lock these people up because they’re dangerous, they ruin lives.”

“Without due process? How is that any different to what happened to your mother? I get that we’re trying to do good and I’m not saying that magical people aren’t dangerous…” they _are,_ people like her and Regina could level a building if they were pissed off and it’s times like these where she _almost_ sees their point, “but not all of them are _evil –_ they’re just dealing with things they don’t understand, that scare them.”

Emma really hoped that she hadn’t read the situation wrong, because if she had it’d be a fuck up she had no chance of coming back from and would in all likelihood land her in a cell next to Regina’s. Neither Emma nor Tamara moved and the silence stretched on for an agonisingly long time.

“What’s the alternative?” Emma was shocked but it wasn’t ‘get out of the car with your hands behind your head’ so she pushed things further.

“I don’t know, not exactly. I just know that I’m uncomfortable with people being taken away without ever knowing where they go or what happens to them, while narcissistic idiots like Albert Spencer instigating witch hunts and people like Hook walking free because they’re ‘useful’.”

“…You’re right.”

“I am?”

“ _Yes,_ Emma” Tamara ground out, sounding distressed. “You know you are. I _know_ the Home Office isn’t perfect, that people like Hook and, wait, who’s Albert Spencer?”

“The guy in the hall last week. You’d know him as King George.”

“Oh him, he’s an asshole. People like them are only interested in consolidating their own power. So yes Emma, you’re right. There are elements to the work we do that I’m not exactly…comfortable with. But what’s the alternative? I believe in protecting people who can’t protect themselves against magic. So I do my job.”

It was a start. An agonisingly slow start that would probably limp a few more yards and then reach its inevitable fiery death, but a start nonetheless.

 

***

 

“Catch!” Emma barely shouted the greeting out before hurling a bag of pastries at the string bean in the long coat and woollen hat. Jack (the kid had finally told her his name at the end of their third meeting) didn’t even glance up to snatch the bag out of the air. _Living up to his name_ , thought Emma. Tearing into the knot with his teeth, he didn’t return the greeting until his mouth was full of piping hot apple strudel.

“Sup, Emma.”

She flopped down onto the bench next to him. “Sup?” She asked incredulously. “Even if I was cool with the fireworks, which I’m _not,_ do you not think that _four boxes_ were maybe a little excessive?”

“You’re right, we could’ve stopped at three, but I guess I’ve got a real flair for the dramatic.”

“I’m really glad that we’ve established that kid, because if you pull something like that again you’ll get to understand the real meaning of the word once I’m through with you.”

“…You sound like her sometimes, you know?”

“Who?”

“The mayor. A threat from her used to round off my week nicely.” Emma frantically swallowed the lump in her throat. She wasn’t going to start crying in front of a Lost Boy. Certainly, not over how talented her girlfriend is at making threats.

“Me too kid.”

“So… aside from our creative differences, what have you got to talk to me about?” Jack asked, wisely deciding to change the subject and biting into a fresh pastry.

“Save some for the others. I need some dirt – two targets in particular: Albert Spencer and Moe French.”

“Sure, anything specific?”

“Something that will discredit them within the little cult they’ve started up. We can’t have too many repeats of last night.” Emma said, ignoring Jack’s pout. Spencer was many things but he wasn’t stupid and at some point, he was bound to work out what was happening. French, as the one with the most fanatical ‘anti-Ruby’ views had to go too. From there, she had faith that Kathryn Midas would be able to handle the others.

“Got it, I’ll have my people see what they can dig up.” With that, Emma nodded and rose from the bench. These meetings lasted a couple of minutes at the most, in what the townspeople had begun to call the ‘Sheriff Outreach Program’.

“Hey Emma, there’s something else…”

“What’s wrong Jack?”

“I don’t know exactly, but there’s been whisperings. There’s a warehouse down at the docks, owned by one Robert Stanley. Now here’s where it gets interesting: the elusive Robert Stanley doesn’t exist. The _actual_ owner of the warehouse is none other than our favourite carpenter, Marco.”

“Why the hell does _Marco_ own a warehouse?

“To be honest, I think he’s just the patsy. But get this; a couple of days ago, Sara noticed a bunch of guys moving everything out of that warehouse and overheard them talking. Apparently, they’re expecting a ‘high profile shipment’ on Friday night during the high school game.”

“So, whatever the shipment is, they don’t want anyone in town to know about it.”

“Exactly… you need backup on Friday?” Jack asked with a grin, that Emma reluctantly returned.

“Nah kid, I’ve got someone else in mind for this one. But thanks, and tell Sara she did well. Oh! Before I forget, tell everyone that if they were to enter Granny’s and order some food she’ll ‘forget’ to give them the bill.”

Jack couldn’t help but grin at that.

“Thanks, Emma”

 

_NINETEEN MONTHS AGO_

 

“Ow! Shit-fucking _hell_ that hurt!” Emma shouted, jumping around the kitchen, trying to regain her balance. She’d been ‘moved out’ for not even seventy-two hours and already Regina was rearranging the mansion. Emma glared at the chair which she had sent clattering to the floor mere moments ago.

“Whoever you are you’ve made a _grave_ error in entering this house,” Emma glanced up to see Regina Mills, silhouetted by the fireball resting in her hand.

“You don’t have to tell me that, I was almost killed by a freaking _chair,_ Gina.”

“Emma?”

“You got other women coming by here in the dead of night?”

Regina didn’t answer, instead tore across the kitchen, pulling Emma into a long hug. Emma was perfectly happy to stay burrowed against Regina’s neck until the end of time, but there were some things she needed to clear up.

“So, comparing me to my parents? Low blow Gina,” Emma said, smirking as she felt Regina’s shoulders shook with laughter.

“What about ‘emotionally stunted on a good day’?”

“I was struck by a sudden sense of inspiration,” as Regina hums noncommittally. “Not that I’m unhappy to see you darling, but I thought we agreed to keep our distance for as long as possible.”

“This has been my idea of ‘as long as possible.’ I _needed_ to see you, but if you want me to go then…”

“Don’t even think about it,” Regina growled, pulling her closer. “You take a seat on that chair you’ve probably broken and I’ll get the good whiskey.”

Emma resets the chair and sits down at the table whilst Regina gets out the bottle of Glenfiddich and two glasses, plonking them unceremoniously on the table. Emma uncaps the bottle and pours them both generous measures as Regina takes the seat opposite.

“How’s Henry?”

“He misses you. Apparently, my advice before his last soccer game was not up to the lofty standards of Emma Swan.”

“Well not everyone can be Alex Ferguson… he’s a… never mind” Emma said, smiling at Regina’s utterly adorable look of confusion.

“How are your parents?”

“Aww babe, I didn’t know you cared,” Emma cooed sarcastically. “They’re fine, except for the fact that I’m trying to convince them that all-out warfare will not work.”

“Of course not,” Regina scoffed, “not against these goons. They fight dirty, which means we have to as well.”

“You don’t have to tell me,” Emma muttered, gesturing between the two of them before downing the remainder of her glass.

“We have rather caught the short end of this stick, haven’t we?”

“Oh, I’d say so, but if it means that we finally get to _finish_ those bastards, so that people like you and Ruby and I don’t have to hide in fear. So that _our_ son can finally have both his mothers’ at home, without any of the bullshit that has characterised the past few years. So that we can _win_? Then it’s worth it.” It wasn’t quite a Charming speech but it came perilously close, so Emma decided to quit while she was ahead. Regina just smiled, fire in her eyes.

“To fighting dirty then my love?” Regina asked, raising her glass.

“To fighting dirty.”


	6. Fuck Disco

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been a while - I am going to finish this. Eventually. It's all planned out and everything. Just letting you know in case you care.

_“To fighting dirty then my love?” Regina asked, raising her glass._

_“To fighting dirty”_

_Their glasses clinked together, their eyes meeting…_

*

 

_…I know your eyes in the morning sun_

_I feel you touch me in the pouring rain_

_And the moment that you wander far from me_

_I want to feel you in my arms again_

 

Regina sighed deeply. Blasting the Bee Gees _would_ be the Home Offices’ idea of an appropriate wakeup call. Of course, the gap between playing the song could be one hour or ten. She had no way to measure the passage of time, especially given that her cell had no windows. Regina had to admit, it was starting to get to her.

There were five things that Regina Mills wanted above all else in this world. She had spent what was, in all probability, months sorting each item into chronological order. The first was to escape this prison – self-explanatory. The second was to reduce the Home Office, those associated with them and anyone so much as sympathetic to their ideals, to ash. Once, she’d have revelled in their torture and ended up telegraphing her every move. In Regina’s more morally questionable days, it was the catalyst for her inevitable downfall. Now, she knew better. You strike at your enemies and end them before they’re even aware of it. Third, she wanted Emma and Henry. That too, was self-explanatory, but _oh_ how Regina wanted to see her family again. She was beginning to forget them, the little details that made up the two people she loved most in the world. The Home Office had a way of getting into your head. Things like Henry’s jersey number, or some of the more involved stories concerning Emma’s past were becoming increasingly hard to recall at times. Regina swore once again that she’d get the Home Office for this slight. She’d even go so far as to allow Emma first swing at the fools if it brought their reunion closer together. Fourth: she was banning the fucking _Bee Gees_ from ever being played in Storybrooke again. In fact, she was banning the entire genre of disco for good measure. It’s within her rights as the mayor after all and if anyone dared to complain they would come under the second point in Regina’s mind and would be dealt with accordingly. Lastly, they (Emma) were painting the mansion as soon as she returned home. The thought of the monochromatic colour scheme made her feel sick after spending inordinate amounts of time in this cell; all white plastic and brushed chrome.  

One thing that remained with absolute clarity was the day they came for her. Regina would admit she behaved in a smug manner, assuring Emma repeatedly that they had another month at the very least, while her sheriff had, for once, advised caution. She was going to be insufferable once Regina got home…

 

_EIGHTEEN MONTHS AGO_

Regina was sat at her desk in the mayor’s office. It was early evening and she was nursing a scotch whilst debating the merits of sexting Emma while working. She wouldn’t see that delicious shade of red first hand, but at the same time, Regina knew she could rely on Mulan to recreate the situation faithfully. Regina had just about made her decision when she felt an unidentified presence right on the very edges of her consciousness. Like trying to catch a penny sinking to the bottom of a pool, Regina struggled to visualise exactly how many men had come for her. Certainly, a team, they were moving quickly and in a deliberate formation. She hoped there were more than three. More than three meant that they weren’t just intimidated by her, they outright _feared_ her. Fear, along with awe and lust was one of the top feelings that Regina Mills sought to inspire in those around her.

There were five of them. But the sense of pride Regina felt in seeing them burst into the room and shuffle around awkwardly once they realised they didn’t create the desired effect was short lived. Regina stared at them all, eyebrow raised. She and Emma had been together for six months before the blonde woman felt comfortable enough to share what she termed that expression the: ‘Regina Mills is better than you and you will understand this before she kills you with her eyes’. Regina thought it accurate if perhaps a tad verbose.  Each man was clad identically in black tactical gear, rifles pointed at her. There was no way for her to get out of this situation. She glanced down at her desk, weighing up the options in front of her.

“Don’t even think about it! Just get up from your desk with your hands raised and follow us, _Your Majesty,_ ” one of the men sneered, gesturing with his gun. Regina silently complied with his instructions. After all, she had pressed the panic button under her desk which sent an alert to Emma’s phone, along with the footage from the security camera in her office before the men had even entered. There was no chance she could save Regina from her fate, but hopefully it would not be long before Emma Swan found her.

Then the real fun could begin.

 

_PRESENT_

It had taken a couple of months for Regina to recalibrate her understanding of ‘before long’. In fairness to Emma, the Home Office were vastly more prepared in this manner than either woman had given them credit for. She had seen many people come and go throughout this facility and no two were alike; different ethnicities, different accents, different everything. In her increasingly frequent ‘interrogations’ _,_ she attempted to wheedle even a general location from them but they refused to give anything away.  

Regina was brought out of her reverie by the sound of heels tapping along the hallway. She rolled her eyes as the perfectly tailored suit and harsh bob walked into the room. The cell, the violence and the eighteen months away from her family she could almost handle. This woman? She wasn’t so sure.

“Regina, did you have a pleasant night’s sleep?”

“Marvellous.”

“I’m glad.”

There was silence while the two of them stared at each other. Everything about Wendy Darling, director of the Home Office, was severe. The aforementioned haircut, her manner of dress, her clipped accent. If Regina thought the Home Office underlings were tight lipped, Wendy was another matter entirely. They’d had many conversations over the months that Regina had been trapped here (she was convinced that Wendy enjoyed baiting her) but she might have actually learned _less_ about the woman over time. Occasionally, Wendy would offer up information about herself but Regina had soon come to realise that it all conflicted. Just another tactic designed to break her.

“I thought we’d discuss hearts today, Regina”

“What about them?”

“I’m interested in what turns them dark and I hoped you’d have some insight. You pulled out enough of them in your day, after all.”

“The darkness of those hearts was never a concern to me dear.”

“Quite… No, what I wanted to know is this: what makes a heart dark?”

Regina thought for a moment. “An act of evil, say… unlawful imprisonment, torture, attempting to eradicate an entire subset of a population…”

“Now, now Regina. You’re in here because you, like all magic users, cannot be trusted in the outside world. Please don’t portray yourself as some kind of _victim._ ”

“I am going to kill you. Slowly.”

“We’ll see,” Wendy said, smirking. Regina cursed herself internally – she’d allowed that damnable woman to get under her skin. Again. That response wouldn’t have been out of place coming from _Emma’s_ mouth for goodness sake. Actually, that might be unfair, Emma would have followed it up with a demonstration. Her love was smart and capable but about as subtle as a brick to the face. Although she couldn’t help but think of something Emma once told her about her days as a bounty hunter.

_“Some of the people who skip bail, they can’t wait to tell anyone about it. Literally anyone that they meet. They go as far as they can without saying it outright; ‘I did it, I outsmarted the police and the courts. Marvel at my great skill’ … it’s ridiculous, and in the end, it’s what gets them caught. By me and my great skill.”_

 Regina smiled, she still didn’t have even a quarter of the pieces, but this was the most she’d gotten in eighteen months and she was going to make damn well sure she used it.

“Tell me Wendy, why is it that you’re interested in hearts?” Her expression didn’t change anywhere except for the eyes, which hardened immediately and intensely.

“Call it professional curiosity.” Her voice, always so formal, rose. The words spat out as if from a machine gun.

“I could, but I think we both know it goes beyond that, don’t we?” Regina asked, getting into her stride. “This is the first time in eighteen months that you _haven’t_ asked me about Storybrooke. Since I don’t believe in coincidences, I wonder why hearts are so important to you – good hearts, I’d say, given that you’re asking about what makes them dark. Now I suppose, if I had to guess, you are looking to harvest the hearts of magic users, good ones in particular. Tell me, Wendy Darling, am I close?”

The smirk was wiped firmly off of Wendy’s face – the unflappable woman for once looking decidedly less sure of herself. Regina was under no illusion that she’d somehow uncovered the Home Office’s entire plan, but judging from the reaction of its leader she’d just hit uncomfortably close. Wendy, perhaps realising that this round was lost to her, turned to leave Regina’s cell. Yet just as she was crossing through the doorway she stopped.

Throwing her parting shot over her shoulder, she said, “I enjoy these little chats of ours, Regina Mills. It’s a shame they must come to an end soon.”

 

*

 

That _fucking_ witch. Regina Mills’ smug face as she rattled off her accusations was intolerable. Wendy was going to enjoy being the instrument of her destruction. Regina’s file mentioned her mother in great detail – a disgusting woman but she provided a much insight into the Evil Queen’s weaknesses. Wendy had ordered an entire section of the R&D department to produce a drug that could make a target see whatever they were _coaxed_ into seeing. For Regina, Wendy had merely planned to make her relive her childhood, her marriage to Leopold, the curse, her son’s distrust – all of it. Now however, she would add in some details – the big climax. The last thing the Evil Queen would see before Wendy killed her would be the death of her son at the hands of her greatest enemy, the Saviour, Emma Swan. Regina’s last and great love who refused to love her back (a fortunate turn of events, as the Saviour had become a useful agent of the Home Office). The entire thing sounded _delicious._

Wendy was pulled out of her fantasy by the ringing of the telephone at her desk. She took a few moments to regain a mind-set befitting of the Director of the Home Office and picked up the receiver.

“Darling.”

“Ma’am, just checking in. We’ll reach Storybrooke with the target within the hour.”

“Excellent job Captain, you’ve done the Home Office proud.”

“Thank you, Ma’am.”

“Oh, and Captain, one last thing?”

“Of course, Ma’am.”

“If anyone sees the target, you know what to do. We clean up loose ends.”

“…I understand Ma’am.”

“Good. Darling out.”

Wendy placed the receiver back down and rose from her desk. Verbal sparring matches with the Evil Queen aside, the plan was coming together wonderfully. She needed just one last thing – with it, her entire life, including the formation of this very organisation would be worth it. Just one last thing and then she’d get everything she ever wanted. Wendy crossed the room to the neatly lined group of hard drives. They sat, as always, on top of a specially designed podium, behind a thick sheet of bullet proof glass. Wendy Darling delicately ran her fingers across the glass, drawing strength from what was inside.

“Don’t worry Peter, we’ll be reunited soon.”

 


	7. Who Gave Her an Assault Rifle?

“So, we got any idea what this shipment is?” Henry asked, from his position on a small island across from the docks. It had taken him most of the afternoon to row over there, allowing him to sit in wait. The Home Office had no way of knowing he was there and they didn’t, judging by the men and woman who couldn’t have been anything other than Home Office agents, going about their business for the past few hours. Henry’s excitement at getting to take the day off school to _finally_ help Emma with a mission was short lived. Still, he had gotten good at watching people over the past eighteen months. The agents were nervous, ceasing card games and smoking every few minutes to pace from warehouse to warehouse. Whatever the shipment was, it was _big._

“Jack didn’t know and it’s being kept from the good little helper monkeys of Storybrooke, otherwise Spencer would have blabbed.”

“Ma, do you think it could be –?”

“It’s not her, Henry.”

Emma released the button on the walkie-talkie and sighed. She was waiting at the police station, having decided to put Henry in charge of direct surveillance. Offering to man the phones tonight meant that she wasn’t expected at the game, but if she slipped out for an hour or so, well then, she was entitled to a work break. However, it also meant that Henry was more or less on his own – a fact that left a sour taste in her mouth. There was no indication that the shipment was a person and even less that it would be Regina. It wouldn’t have made the slightest bit of tactical sense unless Regina was… _don’t_ go there Swan. It’s _not_ her. Though that didn’t stop Henry from hoping for the past week. She could see it in his eyes ever since she’d told him. But it was too late to get anyone else involved.  

“I know, it’s just… wait Ma, there’s someone pulling in!” Emma rose from her desk, pacing the station. Sometimes the kid was far too dramatic for his own good – Emma blamed his upbringing. Luckily, he soon pulled himself together and started to give her relevant information.

“It’s… a black van. They’re not pulling into the warehouse, awesome. Ok, dude’s got out of the passenger side, typical Home Office douche. Driver’s still in the van. The guy’s just pulled his gun, he’s going around the back. He’s pulling open the door, but I can’t see what’s in there from this side.” Henry was practically bouncing up and down. _Finally_ – when his grandparents had told him that surveillance was an important part of war, he’d thought that they were just trying to get him away from the action. Turns out that they were right… eventually.

“Oh, wait OK, the guys walking back around, the others are all converging on the van. I think the shipment _is_ a person Ma, two more Home Office agents are backing up with their guns…Ma?”

“What is it Henry?” Emma asked.

“The shipment… it’s Jefferson.”

“As in ‘Mad Hatter’ Jefferson?” He’d been one of the first to disappear. Grace hadn’t been to school for a few days and Henry had begun to get worried. So Emma took a trip down to the mansion on the edge of town. She’d found Grace, alone and inconsolable. Jefferson was long gone.

“Yep. He ah… it doesn’t look like he’s in a good way Ma.”

“Henry. Where are they taking him?”

“Into the warehouse – Ma, why can I hear a car starting?”

“I’m on my way.”

“Ma, there’s no way you’ll be able to get him out of there on your own.”

“He’s right you know.”

“Jesus _fucking_ Christ!” Emma was pretty sure she’d died of fright – who cares if it wasn’t possible. The top of her head was smarting from where she’d smacked it off the car roof. She turned to glare out the open window of the bug. It’d have been somewhat comforting if her reaction had provided amusement, or even a smile, but as usual Belle’s facial expression was blank. “What the hell do you want?”

“A one-woman retrieval mission is suicidal.”

“Didn’t know you cared.”

“Oh, I don’t,” Belle responded, as she rounded the car to get in the passenger seat.

‘Right,’ Emma mouthed to herself. She stared at Belle expectantly, hoping that she had more to say.

“This is the first opportunity I’ve had to kill some Home Office agents. I’m hitching a ride Swan.”

“First of all, you’re not _killing_ anyone. What the hell kind of revenge will the Home Office rain down on us if you do? Second, how did you know what was going down?”

“I have my ways Swan – and in answer to your first point, I really think I am.” Something in Belle’s voice told Emma that something was amiss. She looked over to see Belle lounging against the window, gun pointed at Emma’s chest.

“Right … hi Belle, come in. Sure, you can have a ride…you’re welcome,” Emma muttered, putting the car into drive.

“I didn’t say thank you.”

 

*

 

“Henry, how many agents have we got on our hands?”

“’Our’?”

“Belle’s with me– “

“Why on earth would you– “

“ _Henry,_ ” Emma started, gritting her teeth, “now _really_ isn’t the time. How many?”

“Ah… there’s seven outside. At least three guys went into the warehouse with Jefferson but there could be more in there.”

“Thanks kid, let me know if they start doing anything interesting.”

“Will do, Ma.”

 

Emma had pulled up across the street. The back entrance was guarded, judging by the agent who was attempting to look inconspicuous some ways down the street. They were going to need a distraction. “Right…” she started, turning to the empty passenger seat. Belle was already crossing the street purposefully. The Home Office agent shouted out in an attempt to stop her, but Belle didn’t even break stride when she shot him in the head, carrying on her way.

“Oh boy, a mistake has absolutely been made here, Swan.” Emma said to herself. Suddenly, an explosion rocked the car. “A huge fucking mistake.”

“Ma, would you count an explosion as interesting?”

“Don’t start Henry,”

“I just thought you’d like to know that Belle is at the docks, shooting anyone in her way. With an assault rifle.”

“ _Alright_ Hen – where in the _shit_ did she get that from? You know what, unimportant. Thanks Henry,” she said, getting out of the car. She wanted a distraction. She’s got one.

On her way, Emma bent down to retrieve the key from the Home Office agent on the floor. She pulled a face as she tried to avoid the increasing pool of blood. Emma continued on to the door, mentally crossing her fingers that the agents on the other side of the door would be dealing with the bat-shit insane fairy-tale character that she’d brought with her, Emma unlocked it.

 

Emma proceeded down an aisle, gun drawn. It seemed that no-one was around. The only sounds were the ceaseless gunfire and screams of pain, all coming from outside. Reaching the end of the aisle, Emma stopped, surveying the situation. Jefferson was tied to a chair in the middle of the warehouse, in a break between the shelving which made up the aisles. Henry had downplayed the situation by _quite a bit._ To say that Jefferson didn’t look like he was in a ‘good way’ was a massive understatement. His entire face was _purple,_ with cuts of various sizes everywhere. His head had been shaved and he looked incredibly malnourished. Jefferson was unconscious and clearly, he wasn’t going to wake up any time soon. Great. Emma threw caution to the wind and made her way over to Jefferson. Untying him, she hoped that he’d come to by himself. When Emma saw that that wasn’t going to be the case, she sighed, apologised to Jefferson and then backhanded him across the face. Hard.

“Wh…what? Miss Swan? What are you doing here? Where am I?” He said, his head rolling about and continually blinking. This was not going to be easy.

“You’re back in Storybrooke Jefferson. As for me; I’m about to get you out of this warehouse.”

“Oh good. These are not nice people Miss Swan,” Jefferson whispered, trailing off towards the end when he lost consciousness. Emma didn’t hesitate in delivering the second backhand.

“You’ve got to stay with me here dude.”

“Sorry, you were saying something about getting out of here?”

“Yep,” Emma said, grunting with effort as she pulled Jefferson up from the chair. Wrapping his arm around her neck and hers around his waist, the two of them started to move back towards the door. She considered waiting for Belle, briefly. Her consideration was not a lengthy one.

“Point a fucking gun at me…” Emma said to herself, helping Jefferson into the car. Belle could handle herself. Probably.

 

*

 

Emma pulled up at the cabin she’d been told existed by Regina six months before she was taken. Created through Regina’s magic, they were the only two people that knew it existed. Three now, she thought, looking over at Jefferson who was, once again, unconscious. Regina was not going to be happy about this and honestly, neither was Emma, but she didn’t see another way. It’s not as if Jefferson could just walk down Main Street to the hospital. She left the bug and circled round to the passenger side, opening the door.

“Where are we now Swan?”

“Somewhere secret. Hopefully. Let’s get you inside,” she said, pulling him from the car. Fortunately, Jefferson was a little more with it and could get over to the cabin by himself. Mostly.

The cabin was small but cosy, enough room for an open plan living room and kitchen. There was a king-sized bed at the end of the cabin and a door leading to the bathroom in the corner. She got Jefferson over to the bed and then took a deep breath. Right, now to check on Henry. The walkie-talkie was out of range so she dialled his number, hands shaking with adrenaline. Emma spoke before he even picked up.

“How’re you doing kid?”

“I’m fine Ma. Belle took out all the Home Office agents, so I made it back over to the docks with no problems. I’m going to get back home before everyone gets out of the game.”

“Good boy, you did great tonight.”

“Thanks Ma, for trusting me. See you soon.”

“Yeah,” Emma said, hanging up. She’d make her way to Mifflin Street as soon as she was done here. The question was, how in the _hell_ did Belle manage to survive? One thing’s for certain, if her bloodlust hadn’t been sated by the dozens of people she’d killed, then Emma was _fucked._ But first things first.

“Jefferson…Jefferson!” she said. This was a conversation that he needed to be present for.

“Miss Swan… Grace – where is my daughter Swan?!” He asked, attempting to rise from the bed fruitlessly. Emma put her hand on his chest to keep him from doing any further damage to himself.

“She’s safe Jefferson,” at the hatter’s sceptical look, she continued, “when you were taken, I got her out of Storybrooke myself. As soon as you’re able, I’ll take you to her, I swear.” Jefferson was silent for a few moments, taking in what Emma had told him.

“Thank you Swan. For this, but also for getting me away from them. It’s a debt that I suspect I won’t ever be able to repay.”

“Maybe not, but I have an idea for how you can start.”

“Name it.”

“You’ve been held by the Home Office for almost two years Jefferson. Eighteen months ago, Regina was taken too. Do you know anything about–?”

“No, I’m sorry Swan. I’d tell you if I did. We were kept in our cells 24 hours a day. I have no clue who else was in that facility, nor where it was located. But I do have something that I believe would be of interest to you.”

“Go on” Emma said, doubting that anything other than the location of Regina Mills would interest her.

“The woman in charge, her name is Wendy Darling – yes, _that_ Wendy Darling. She _questioned_ me repeatedly, I imagine that she was doing the same to all the prisoners. The experience was quite uncomfortable: that woman is obsessed.”

“Obsessed with what?”

“She…wanted to know the way to Wonderland.”

Ignoring what Jefferson had said about his treatment by the Home Office and what it meant for Regina, Emma prompted him for more information. “Why in the hell would _anyone_ want to go to Wonderland?”

“My thoughts exactly Miss Swan. I don’t know exactly, but I got the sense that Darling was less interested in the generalities of the realm but in one person in particular.”

“Who, Jefferson?”

“The Queen of Hearts.”

Oh, this was really not fucking good.  


	8. Matters of the Heart

“Hey, sorry I haven’t been around…”

Tamara trailed off and sighed. This was ridiculous. There had been nothing left of Greg’s body to recover, she’s talking to a pile of dirt. Greg wasn’t even his real name! Still, the guy had been her partner and it wasn’t as if anyone else would be visiting his grave anytime soon. Tamara suspected that when her time was up there would be no one to visit her. Maybe Swan…Tamara laughed aloud at the image. Emma would be the only one worse at this than her.

“I’ve been busy – you know how it is. Swan’s my new partner: I know, didn’t see that coming either. She’s ok actually. Once in a while she even makes a valid point. I… talked to her about Mom the other day. She said some things. I don’t know, I’ve been thinking about it a lot.”

Not about people with magic. They _were_ dangerous, just take what happened at the docks. Twenty agents, men and women that she’d worked with were either dead or in critical condition and no one had a _clue_ who was behind it. Any evidence had been magically erased. All for the gatekeeper of that _place?_ That hellish fucking realm that ruined her life? People who could do something like _that_ were not to be trusted.

But it wasn’t as if the Home Office’s recent actions in Storybrooke were spotless either. Tamara had been made certain assurances by Darling herself that Jefferson was to be put in a hole and _never_ taken out. Now he could be absolutely anywhere. What possible reason could they have had for someone like that? Tamara hadn’t needed Emma to tell her those particular home truths.

Tamara cast her eyes over the grave that should’ve contained the body of Greg Mendell. What was it: “you can never change things by fighting the existing reality”? Well maybe it was time for a change. Otherwise one thing’s for certain – the situation would only get a whole lot worse.

 

*

 

“She’s been standing there doing nothing for a half hour, Emma.”

“Eat your bear claw Mulan,” Emma said, smirking. The stoic warrior was decidedly _not_ a morning person, which in no way informed Emma’s decision to wake her up at five this morning in order to follow her Home Office partner. She’d seen a change in Tamara over the past few days: the woman was still confirmed team ‘anti-magic’, but she had been questioning the overlords a lot more. Emma believed her when she said she didn’t know where the Home Office headquarters were located, but she might know people who did. At this point, Emma would take what she could get.

“Have you heard from Belle?” Mulan asked, the concern evident in her voice.

That may have been the other reason why Emma had suddenly decided to organise a five AM stake out. The day before had been spent driving Jefferson as far away from Storybrooke as possible, picking Grace up on the way. Now Emma had no clue where Belle French was or what she could be planning next.

“No, but that might not necessarily be a bad thing, right?” Mulan looked unconvinced, Emma could tell.

“I’m not convinced.”

“Forget about Belle, while the Home Office is still in Storybrooke she’ll be occupied. I’m more worried about what the Home Office wants with Cora.” Mulan shuddered imperceptibly and Emma almost joined her; the last time they’d faced off against the woman had been unpleasant to say the least. “How can they not know she’s already dead?”

“Maybe it’s less about the woman, more about the title?”

“…They’re looking for hearts you think?”

“One in particular, yes. The Queen of Hearts would be a good starting point.” Emma nodded, the idea made sense. The kind of power that a heart had inside of it, well. It didn’t bear thinking about that the Home Office had somehow worked out how to harness that power for nefarious purposes.

“Emma…do you think that– “

“It’s the reason they took Regina? I’m starting to, yeah.” She was the only person still alive who knew the extent of what a heart could do. The only question was: what heart did they want?

 

*

 

“You need to focus Regina, this is important,” Regina Mills grimaced as the last remnants of electricity coursed through her body. They had been at this for hours, always the same set of questions. She knew she wouldn’t be able to last much longer. The heels clicked rhythmically as they moved from one side of her chair to the other. Panting, she moved her head to the side as she took in Wendy Darling.

“Which heart is the most powerful – the product of true love?” There was only one person on the Home Office’s radar who fit that particular bill and Regina would do anything to make sure Emma was kept safe.

“No…it’s powerful, but magically it is not the _most_ powerful.”

“Then what is?”

“I…no!” She feebly protested, as Wendy raised her hand to signal another round of electricity. Regina could taste copper in her mouth – she’d bit her tongue. Wendy leaned in closer, punctuating each word as if it were a sentence of its own.

“What is Regina?”

“Someone who accepts magic into their heart completely. Someone…someone who _believes.”_

As she lost consciousness, Regina hoped that they’d work out she was talking about herself.

 

*

 

“You look a little preoccupied there Swan” Tamara said, perching on Emma’s desk. The Home Office had been given leave to work out of the sheriff’s office, so Tamara and Emma were assigned what was essentially a broom closet out of the way of the main station. Sometimes she’d catch Emma staring at the sheriff’s desk forlornly, which was now David’s as acting sheriff. She didn’t blame her; it was a nice desk.

“Just bored. David rushed off to that last call before I could even offer backup.”

“Well here’s something that might cheer you up. Top brass has been looking into what happened at the docks.”

“Oh yeah…? What have they found?” Emma asked, attempting nonchalance. Yep, Swan was definitely bored. For once, Tamara decided to take pity on her.

“Well there’s only one group of people with the magical ability to cover something of that magnitude up. What do you say to you and me taking a little visit to the convent? Meet me in the woods outside, this evening.”

The smile spread slowly across Emma’s face, but soon she was grinning somewhat maniacally. Both the Home Office nor Tamara suspected that she, or more importantly Henry, had anything to do with what happened Friday night, and now she got to fuck with Blue?

This was going to be whole lot of fun.

 

*

 

David entered Marco’s shop cautiously, his hand resting near his gun. There were many things he missed about his home, but modern weaponry certainly had its uses. Given the tip off he had received and what Emma had told the Resistance about Marco he wasn’t going to take any chances.

 

_HALF AN HOUR AGO_

 

David rushed over to his desk, dropped his lunch from Granny’s and leaned over to just about reach the phone in time.

“Hello?”

“I need to speak to the sheriff.”

“I’m acting sheriff for the time being. Can I help you?

“I… fuck it. You need to check out Marco’s”

“Excuse me?”

“The carpenter? Builds kids out of wood because he can’t get a girlfriend? I’ve heard weird… noises coming from his basement. You need to check it out.”

David thought for a few moments. The caller tried to mask his voice when he heard he wasn’t talking to Emma, but it was obviously the voice of a teenage boy. It was _highly_ unlikely that this kid had heard anything coming from Marco’s basement. It could even be a trap. Nevertheless, it might be the only chance the Resistance would have to find out exactly how much Marco knew and what _exactly_ he had told the Home Office. David was also reminded that Emma was particularly cagey when asked how she knew about Marco, only mentioning a ‘trusted informant’ – who David now suspected was on the other end of the line. He thanked the mysterious voice, but they had already hung up.

 

_PRESENT_

“Marco?” David shouted, making his way behind the counter to the back of the empty shop. He waited a while before deciding it was safe enough to proceed down to the basement. He swore quietly to himself with every step: these must be the creakiest stairs he had ever come across. If someone _was_ in that basement he was screwed.

He pulled on the cord that brushed past his face at the bottom of the stairs and the room was illuminated by the naked bulb hanging from the middle of the room. The room was empty other than a collapsible table positioned against the far wall and a sturdy looking armoire in the corner of the room. The place smelt uncomfortably of rotting damp – not the ideal situation for a carpentry workshop. Although judging by the pictures that adorned the walls, the room had a completely different purpose.

There was a large map of Storybrooke, surrounded by pictures of key residents, most of whom happened to be members of the Resistance. Notes were scrawled across this collage in red sharpie, identifying those who were of a greater or lesser risk. David made his way over to the pictures to take it all in. It seemed like himself and Snow achieved top billing, along with Mulan and Ruby. He swallowed down his anger at what he found written under Ruby’s picture: ‘non-human – eradicate’. Marco had fought alongside her during countless wars! Ruby had even saved his life – how could he no longer see her as human?! Consequences be damned, David was going to be having a little _chat_ with the carpenter. He was relieved to see that Emma, Henry and Kathryn’s images were not on the wall – it suggested that their deception had not yet been discovered. Something in the far corner gave him significant pause – Victor had two images. The first was taken in Storybrooke, a surveillance photo like everyone else’s, but the second was staged, a professional portrait. This was Victor Frankenstein in all his former glory; dressed impeccably in a three-piece suit, white shirt with a starched collar. Underneath was written ‘knows too much – action to be taken imminently.’ What could Victor know? Something that he hadn’t bothered to share with the Resistance it seemed like. He hadn’t wanted to trust the doctor initially, but Snow had convinced him, insisting that his feelings were due to jealousy over what happened when they were cursed. He thought that the man had begun to prove himself but perhaps he had been right all along. Still, despite David’s feelings of anger and betrayal he was uncomfortably aware of what the note meant. He wasn’t about to let the man _die,_ at least not before he had a chance to explain himself.

But before he could do anything else, David heard noises coming from upstairs; the ring of the bell as the shop door closed and voices. Voices that were gradually increasing in volume. They were coming down to the basement! As quietly as possible he rushed back over to turn the light off, plunging himself into darkness. If it was just Marco he could have just arrested the man and been done with it, but a group? He’d have no chance of getting out of here. He cursed, there was only one place to hide and he would be backed into a corner if they discovered him. He climbed into the armoire and held his breath as footsteps made their way down the stairs. There were three of them – a challenge but perhaps not an insurmountable one, he thought to himself, pulling his gun free from its holster. If it came down to it, he was hoping the element of surprise would give him a slight advantage.

All he had to do now was wait to see if it would be needed.  

 


	9. Fun with Nuns

 Emma practically skipped towards the convent, letting out a loud ‘oof’ noise as Tamara’s arm shot out suddenly, catching her in the stomach. Doubled over and coughing, Emma looked up at Tamara.

“What the _fuck_ was that for?”

“Put it away, Swan.” Emma looked at her confused. Tamara pointed to the gun that was already out and in Emma’s hand.

“Put. It. Away.”

“You spoil all my fun,” Emma sighed, but she did as she was asked. Besides, she could always build up to the gun later in the conversation.

“So, if I’m not allowed to just shoot her, what’s the plan?”

“Ask her about Friday night, see just how much she knows.”

“She’s not going to say shit.”

“ _I_ know that and _you_ know that, but we have our orders,” Tamara said, as they started again towards the convent. “You’re always talking about how well you can read people, figured it’d be a good time to see whether you’re really just full of shit.”

“Oh, I always know when Blue’s lying.”

“Really?”

“Whenever she opens her mouth.”

 

*

 

Emma and Tamara were waiting in the foyer, Tamara taking in the many paintings and religious paraphernalia with interest. Not for the first time she marvelled at the level of detail that Regina went into when enacting the First Curse. Say what you like about the woman, but she was thorough. Emma just paced up and down, attempting to wear a hole in the carpet. Suddenly a door to the right burst open and Astrid came through, whistling cheerfully to herself. She stopped in her tracks when she noticed the two women, but upon catching Emma’s eye she smiled.

“Hi Emma, how are you today?”

“Good thank you Astrid. Just wanting to talk to Mother Superior. You?”

“Oh, I’m fine! I’ve just been cleaning.” They stood in silence for a few moments before Astrid stepped closer, lowering her voice.

“How’s Leroy?”

“He’s good Astrid, although you could always just ask him yourself – “

“Sister Astrid knows full well that it’s against the rules to _fraternise_ Miss Swan, don’t you Astrid?” Blue appeared at the top of the grand staircase, as if from thin air. Which she probably did, Emma thought bitterly.

“Yes, Mother Superior!” Astrid squeaked, eyes wide with fear.

“Don’t you have work to be getting on with?”

“Yes, Mother Superior! Bye Emma,” she said softly, scurrying off back in the direction she came. Tamara looked at Astrid and then back to Emma, eyebrow raised. Emma motioned towards Blue with her eyes and mouthed the word ‘bitch’.

“Ladies, you wished to speak to me?”

“On behalf of the Home Office, yes,” Tamara said, as if daring Blue to refuse.

“Well of course, I’ll co-operate _fully_ with our friends at the Home Office. Come on up,” she said with a flourish, turning on heel and ascending up the stairs. The women followed her.

 

*

 

This was clearly Blue’s private wing – nobody else was in sight. The dark wood panelling and plush carpet was only interrupted by a single door, made of the same wood so as to blend in. The door was open, Blue already inside. As they entered Blue’s office, Emma turned and said to Tamara in a stage whisper; “Don’t look her in the eyes – she’ll steal your soul!” Tamara shook her head but couldn’t help but snigger as Blue tapped her foot impatiently.

“Why are you here?”

“Twenty Home Office agents were either murdered or seriously injured on Friday night. We have no idea who, how or why because memories were tampered with and camera hard drives were wiped clean– “

“Using magic. A lot of magic.” Emma added unhelpfully. 

“What is this, good cop, bad cop?” Blue asked, smirking, looking at Tamara and Emma respectively.

“Nope, _she’s_ bad cop,” Emma said, pointing at Tamara, “I’m your worst fucking nightmare.”

“You speak to a member of the clergy this way?” Blue asked in mock horror.

“You’re not a member of the clergy! You received your Holy Orders from a curse!”

“ _Okay,_ ” Tamara said, attempting to dial back the aggression a little. “We’re just trying to establish how something like that could possibly be done.”

“It would take a rather large amount of magic dear.” Blue said warily.

“Oh, _would it_?” Emma asked pointedly. She rolled her eyes as Tamara looked at her sharply but silently allowed her partner to take the lead.

“Who would have access to such an amount?” Tamara asked.

“I have no idea. Rumpelstiltskin and the Evil Queen are no longer factors in Storybrooke, but perhaps they had reserves stored somewhere that some malcontent got access to? That is my only guess Agent.”

Emma looked up with a furrowed brow. She knew for a fact that the fairies had enough dust to erase the evidence at the docks, she could sense it pulsing around her from the moment she entered the convent. It really hadn’t taken that much after all, far less than Blue was suggesting. She’d barely broken a sweat. No, she figured that Blue would lie through her teeth about having access to _any_ kind of magic and it’s not as if Emma was going to give the game away, but blaming it on Gold or Regina was an interesting move. She couldn’t see at this moment what Blue had to gain by it, but she would make it her mission to find out.

“Who would know where those reserves were located? Should I believe they even exist?” Tamara clarified sceptically.

“I would look to the people closest to them – either Miss French or Mr Mills. Or is it Mr Swan? I’m never quite sure” Blue said, looking directly at Emma. _That’s_ where she was going, the viper. The Home Office would either go after Belle, in which case they would find out the part Emma had to play in Friday’s events, or they were going after Henry. Which wasn’t happening, ever. Oh, Emma was going to enjoy _destroying_ the Mother Superior when she got the chance.

“Well I think we’re done here.” Tamara said, motioning for Emma to leave. Emma couldn’t tell whether she believed what Blue had to say. Emma hoped that her partner would trust her enough by now to give her the benefit of the doubt. Tamara reached out to shake Blue’s hand and then left the room. Emma glared and did the same.

“So, what do you think?” Tamara asked, somehow knowing what the answer would be before Emma even said it. Emma did not disappoint.

“Definitely guilty.”

 

*

 

“You look like shit.”

“Aren’t you supposed to be eternally positive or something?”

“You’re thinking of Cinderella. I got ‘fairest of them all’, not ‘kindest’.”

“My mistake,” Ruby said, smirking as she collapsed in the chair next to Snow. She knew that it would never be the same as it once was, that Regina and Emma now filled the spot that was once taken by her, but sometimes she missed her best friend. She peered over at her; Snow wasn’t joking when she’d said Ruby looked like shit, the normally perky waitress had bags under the bags under her eyes and it seemed she barely had the energy to lift her head.

“Your daughter is to blame,”

“Do I want to know?”

“Don’t be disgusting. She came up with a spell to ‘keep the wolf at bay’, so to speak. It feels like I’m being repeatedly run over by a truck. Who knew that the product of you and Charming would lack any kind of finesse?”

Even though it was her daughter and by extension she and Charming that were being insulted she couldn’t help but smile at the accuracy of Ruby’s comment. She’d never get over things like family traits being pointed out, sometimes it felt like the only indication that Emma was ever _theirs._

“How’s Mulan?”

“Pissed. She wants to spend every night out in the woods with me but that’s not happening.”

“Why not?”

“ _Snow.”_ There was a look that Ruby had perfected for whenever she thought Snow was being particularly obtuse. She was using it now.

“I understand your concerns Ruby but nothing’s going to go wrong. Even if it did, Mulan can handle herself.”

“I know she can, I just don’t want her to see me like…” she trailed off, biting her lip and looking away. Unfortunately for Ruby, they were the only two people currently in the library.

“Oh Ruby,” Snow said, eyes watering at her friend’s pain, “if someone loves you, the way that Mulan loves you, then seeing you… well, in a way that’s not quite your best won’t change anything.”

“How can you know?”

“It didn’t change anything between us,” Snow said, staring her down. Ruby caught her eye for a moment and sighed.

“Snow…”

“Look, I know it’s not the same, not like… but I love you Ruby. Not in the way that Mulan does, but that only means that she’ll feel more strongly about this. I was never scared of you. Not _once._ Scared for you plenty of times, but never of you.”

“I… guess. Thanks Snow”

“You’re welcome.” She smiled, perhaps given time she and Ruby could recover what they had lost over the past five years. Either way she was pleased to have been of some help for once. The two women sat together in comfortable silence for a few more minutes until Mulan rushed into the room, only to calm once she saw who occupied it.

“Good evening Snow, it would appear I am not quite as late as I first thought. Still, my apologies. Is something wrong love?” Mulan asked, bending down to kiss Ruby before taking the seat on the other side of her.

“The opposite actually, Snow made me realise how stupid I’ve been acting,” Ruby confessed, grabbing her by the neck and pulling her into a much longer kiss. Snow politely averted her eyes until they were done.

“Well if that is the case then thank you Snow, I have been wondering how to get through to her.”

“Oh, it’s easy” she said, smirking. “You just have to be more stubborn than her. Luckily I have experience in that area.”

“Where’s Charming?” Ruby asked, deliberately changing the subject whilst covertly giving Snow the finger.

“I don’t know, I haven’t seen him since lunch.” She frowned, it was unusual for her husband to not at least text throughout the day. “He must just be busy at work.”

“Especially as there’s no one to answer the phone at the station now.” Kathryn said, joining the women at the table. Emma and Henry were not far behind, her arm around her son’s shoulder. Emma rolled her eyes.

“Don’t mention her, homicidal maniac pulling fucking assault rifles out of thin air” she muttered, stealing Henry’s chair from him. He stuck his tongue out and took the seat next to her.

“Language, Emma.”

“Yes _mother,_ ” she said, rolling her eyes even more deliberately.

“Although she’s got a point, where in the hell did she even get it? I doubt the illegal gun trade has reached Storybrooke yet.” Ruby asked, looking around the room.

“She has her ways.” This came from both Kathryn and Mulan, who immediately fist bumped.

“The woman has been through a lot. But it is true, she is somewhat… challenged.”

“Let’s call a spade a spade Grandma: the lady’s batshit insane.”

“Language, Henry.” Emma said, smirking. While Henry coughed and spluttered in protest, they were joined by Whale.

“David not here yet?” He asked, not bothering to take a seat.

“You got somewhere else to be Victor?” Kathryn asked, appraising the man in front of her.

“I’ve had a long day Midas, some of us actually work for a living as well as playing spy.”

“Ok guys that’s enough. I think he’s just stuck at the station Victor, I’ll give him a call.” Snow said, pulling her phone from her purse.

“That’s odd,” he said. The look on Whale’s face stopped her from dialling.

“What is?”

“Well the patrol car wasn’t there when I was driving past the station.”

“He went out on a call just after lunch, I haven’t seen him since,” Emma said, sharing a glance with Mulan. They both knew no complaint in Storybrooke took _that_ long. Snow was about to worry until the man himself strode into the room, rubbing his shoulder and glaring at Whale.

“Sorry I’m late guys, but I’ve been stuck in a _fucking_ wardrobe for the past three hours.” He ignored everyone’s questioning looks and pointed at Whale, “I think we need to have a talk.”

 


	10. I Do Believe In Fairies

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apparently this is still going. Yep, I'm shocked too. This is shorter than all the other chapters but it was a struggle to get anything out at all if I'm honest. I've never seen Whale's backstory on the show so I stole random parts from the actual Frankenstein and just stitched them together. Kind of like Frankenstein...this is the point where you laugh.

He shouldn’t have come here. _It was a complete waste of time_ , Victor thought to himself. A week spent on a boat from Ingolstadt and this is what he had to listen to. A jumped up little man, in a suit that didn’t fit him, droning on about natural science and philosophy. Resurrection of the dead he had been promised. Instead, the man talked about valuing the memory of the deceased, about what their life meant to the people left behind. What a load of shit, Victor thought, hearing the phrase in the inn where he had been staying for the past few weeks. It was an appropriate one to add to his vocabulary at this time in his life.

Ernest was dead. His youngest brother. Aside from Mother, the only one who had ever understood him. Father was ruined, he took to his rooms and refused to speak to any of them. Victor, the smartest, the _scientist,_ William had spat at him in accusation. Yet you can do nothing. All that intelligence and still you cannot preside over life and death. Well Victor will show him and Ernest will rise and Father will be fine. That is why he was here. Once again, his goals did not line up with reality. With _nature._ Victor adjusted his collar, the sweat dripping down his neck. The room was too hot of course. These English, they complained about the cold but always turned the heat up. It was the difference that always showed the excess, Victor thought to himself. He sneered and rose from his chair in the middle of the man’s sentence. He should have remained in his lab.

Letting the door to the private salon slam shut behind him, Victor turned his collar up at the brisk London air and made his way up the narrow, cobbled street. He would spend the evening back at the inn and then in the morning seek passage back to Ingolstadt, back to his work. Halfway down the street he was stopped by a shout of his name.

“Victor?” He turned around. “Victor Frankenstein?”

“Yes madam?” He asked, unable to be impolite to a lady. She was dressed impeccably, flowing brown hair and piercing blue eyes which fixed Victor in a gaze that left him cold. He understood that this was not a woman to be trifled with. Still, he was quite taken with her, this younger woman. His _heart_ was promised to Elizabeth of course, but still. It didn’t hurt to look.

“I know why you’re here Herr Frankenstein. We know everything about you – and your brother.” Victor stalked towards the woman upon hearing this, forcing her against the nearest wall.

“What is your point madam?” To her credit, she did not look intimidated.

“I work for an organisation Herr Frankenstein, that seeks the same thing as you. To resurrect the dead.” Victor could only stare at her. Could it possibly be true? Was a solution to his endeavour finally in sight? He’d nearly been driven mad. Months spent toiling away with different chemicals, alone in his laboratory. Whenever he got close to something like a breakthrough he lost it again. Henry had considered him a different being, not quite human when he emerged, talking about raising the dead, the possibility of restoring Ernest back to life. He bid her to continue.

“My love, a gentleman quite like your Ernest I am lead to believe, was taken from me. I believe that this process can be reversed and I believe that you are the man to do it Victor,” she said to him, resting a hand on his shoulder.

“My dear lady I believe you are mistaken,” Victor said to her, “my own research has proved lacking.”

“You require more funds, more time” she said to him. “My organisation is willing to provide you both. With whatever you need” she promised him. Victor could see in her eyes that she was telling the truth. Perhaps this visit would be exactly what he needed after all.

“Who are you?” He asked in wonder.

“My name is Wendy Darling,” she said. “My organisation is called the Home Office.”

 

*

 

Wendy exited Regina’s cell, whistling to herself. The woman had not regained consciousness since giving away that glorious piece of information. No matter, she wasn’t dead so there would be plenty of time to question her again at a later date. She sped up, wanting to return to her office as soon as possible. Something that Regina said, she’d heard phrasing very close to it somewhere before. She didn’t bother to remove her jacket or greet Peter. Instead she booted up her computer, determined to find out where she had heard that phrase before.

It took her fifteen minutes, meticulously going through every search result until finally, a report from a Greg Mendell, a diseased agent who had been part of the initial team on the Storybrooke case contained what she was looking for. Wendy laughed aloud. This might be the most perfect act of serendipity that had ever occurred. ‘The heart of the truest believer’ – Wendy could cry. She would get everything she ever wanted, including the destruction of Regina Mills in one fell swoop. She reaching over to buzz the intercom for her assistant. He walked into the room, a blonde man this time.

“Have Tinkerbell come and see me. Immediately.” The man gulped audibly but nodded and scurried off to do as she asked.

Oh, what a wonderful day this was turning out to be.

 

*

 

She walked through the corridors of the facility, careful to take the long way around. She enjoyed the feeling, the others jumping out of their skin in order to avoid her. She would occasionally stare for a few seconds longer than necessary, just to see the fear in their eyes. The fear was good, it meant she did her job well. Arriving at her destination, she stopped at the desk, eyeing up the blonde man in the suit. Poorly tailored, it didn’t fit him properly on the shoulders. The hair was a dye job too. He looked at her, not saying anything. She sighed and cleared her throat.

“I’m here to see Ms Darling.”

“Right! Of course, Tink– I... Of course, go straight through. She’s expecting you.”

She walked in, leaving the door to slam shut behind her. Wendy Darling looked up from her work, smiling when she noticed who was standing before her.

“Tinkerbell, it’s good to see you.”

She hated that name. Those at the training camps thought they were funny when they started calling her it. She didn’t understand the reason why. _They_ didn’t seem to understand the reason why anymore when she beat them all to a bloody pulp. Still, the name lingered.

“Ma’am – I heard you have a job for me.”

“Yes, there’s a new target for you. Not quite on the level that you’re used to but this is of the utmost importance,” Wendy said, throwing a file across the room. She caught it but didn’t open it yet. It was clear Wendy hadn’t finished. “Tinkerbell, when you eliminate the target, I need you to return here with his heart.”

One of the odder requests that she had received from the Home Office over the years but she was comfortable with anything. So long as the client was willing to pay. Sometimes they were not at that didn’t… end well for them. There was no point responding verbally, Darling was looking down at the files on her desk again. Clearly, she was dismissed. She nodded and left the room as briskly as she entered.

As she retraced her steps back through the facility, she opened the file. A small town in Maine, called Storybrooke. She hadn’t been to the States in a while. Flipping the page, she took in the photograph of a boy, about sixteen or seventeen years old. He quite evidently needed a haircut, this Henry Mills. Shame, he seemed like a nice kid.

But if Wendy Darling wanted the heart of the ‘truest believer’, then she was going to get it.


	11. Fairy-Tale Nonsense

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is back, maybe.

“I imagine she’s still going after him.” Whale said, finishing his story. 

The room was silent, but not for long.

“Peter Pan? Peter _fucking_ Pan?” Emma shouted, standing up from her chair. “Nope, absolutely not– “

“Emma…”

“I’m _done_ Snow. I’ve never wanted any part of this world. And now you’re telling me that the woman I love has been taken, possibly tortured, all for the benefit of Peter _fucking_ Pan?” With that she stormed from the room, Henry following not long after her.

“That went better than I expected,” Kathryn noted wryly.

“You couldn’t have told us this before now, Whale?”

“I had no reason to suspect that Wendy Darling would still be in charge of the Home Office. Not until you mentioned the Queen of Hearts.”

“It still would have been pertinent information,” Mulan said.

“Real fucking pertinent information,” Ruby added. She then turned to Mulan “We’ve got a target now, at least.”

“True enough, love” Mulan said, and they too left the room. Snow and David wordlessly agreed to go and catch up elsewhere. Whale sighed, he honestly hadn’t meant any harm. Not that he owed these people anything but he likely wouldn’t be trusted by them again. Some resistance.

“Whale?” Kathryn asked softly, stopping him from leaving.

“What is it Midas?”

“I’m… sorry. About your brother.” Whale was silent for a few moments. The woman didn’t look at him again. Victor only felt comfortable replying once she had left the room.

“Thank you.”

 

*

 

“Stupid fairy-tale nonsense…” Emma muttered, stalking up main street. Henry hurried after her. Suddenly Emma stopped and Henry went crashing into her back.

“Watch where you’re going Kid,” she sighed.

“Ma, I don’t…”

“Come here Henry,” Emma said, pulling Henry into her arms. “I know I’m not acting like it right now, but this is _good_ news.”

“It is?” He asked, voice muffled.

“Yeah Hen, this is a real step in the right direction. I just hate– “

“Stupid fairy-tale nonsense, I know. I’ve heard. Many times before,” Henry said, smiling.

They were still wrapped in an embrace when Tamara approached them.

 

THREE YEARS AGO

 

“You’re all fucking insane!”

“Miss Swan! I won’t have you talking like this in front of Henry!”

“Henry is in bed.”

“And if he’s still sleeping then it is through inheriting _your_ genes.” Emma stilled, as much as she could be given the amount she’d had to drink, head tipped slightly to the side.

“Stop changing the goalposts.”

“Excuse me?”

“You, you just like to argue with me. Not tonight Gina, not about this. You know I’m right…”

Regina attempted the eyebrow but sighed before it reached its full potency. “Come with me,” she ordered, progressing further into the mansion. When she realised Emma hadn’t followed her voice came softer. “Emma, I would like to talk about this with you but not in my foyer.” Emma nodded repeatedly and followed the mayor.

Regina held the door to her study open and chuckled softly as Emma ducked under her arm and stumbled slightly, collapsing onto the sofa. She shut the door behind her, realising that coffee would be in order.

Emma sat alone, contemplating what had happened. She expected a fight should she ever meet her birth parents but she always pictured a once and done kind of job. Not these drawn-out affairs over such ridiculous things. It had been nearly three years! She sighed deeply as Regina returned, handing her a cup of coffee.

“This is hot,” she noted, making a split-second decision between swallowing and spitting it back into the cup. Emma got a burnt throat for her trouble and Regina rolled her eyes.

“Yes my dear, I do believe that’s the point.”

“I like when you call me that…” Emma hummed drunkenly.

“Emma…”

“I know. I know we’re not supposed to talk about. Well… you _know._ I just like when you call me that,” she muttered defensively, looking anywhere but Regina.

“I like calling you that.” Regina admitted.

“Then why are you doing this Gina?” Emma asked, indignant.

“ _You_ know why Emma. Your parents would never accept the two of us. That’s to say nothing of the town– “

“ _Fuck_ my parents! And fuck the town too while we’re at it, certain exceptions aside…” Emma voice rose, “I’m done with having my entire life decided for me because I’m the supposed _Saviour”_ she spat. Regina tried to swallow past the lump in her throat. She’d never seen Emma like this.

“Sweetheart– “

“No, you know what Madam Mayor? You’re just like them. You don’t want me? Fine, nothing I haven’t dealt with before. I’m an adult. I can take it. But don’t _tell_ me that you’re doing it because of them! Every bit of love that seems possible to me in this world seems dependent on that stupid. Fucking. Title!” She sat, hunched slightly and breathing heavily but glad that she’d finally spoke her mind. Except now the fucking eyebrow was back and full force this time.

“Are you done?” Regina asked quietly. Deliberately.

“Yeah.”

“Good. You know, you’re a complete idiot.”

“What–“

But Emma didn’t get a chance to argue, because Regina pulled her into a kiss.

 

*

 

Whale whistled as he walked, contemplating what was to become of him now. Despite Kathryn’s act of… whatever that was, he was under no illusion that he would be foisted from the Resistance. That was, if Emma didn’t decide to come after him herself. He glanced over, glad that she seemed preoccupied with her son. The boy that reminded him so much of Ernest.

Not that he could blame Emma. When love seemed to occur more rarely one tended to hold on to it a little too tightly. Certainly, he had been guilty of such a thing, the scent of formaldehyde sometimes still sat in his nostrils if he breathed in a specific way.

He liked this place. Storybrooke. Many things could be said about the former Evil Queen but she gave people somewhere safe to live for 28 years, away from their respective traumas. Of course, she also robbed them of an opportunity to move on in those 28 years… but she was just trying to escape her problems. Selfishness following a trauma was not a thing he could in good conscience condemn in others.

From a scientific point of view, he found it all interesting. The comparisons between Regina Mills and Wendy Darling. _This_ train of thought he could definitely not afford to share with anyone else. Emma Swan would, in fact, kill him. Both made poor decisions as a response to pain, but while Regina had admitted to, and in Victor’s opinion unnecessarily, castigated herself over that decision she did not do it while thinking of punishing parties who had not in some way wronged her. Even during the act making sure that those affected by the fallout would not be treated overly cruelly. At least in his eyes. Whereas Wendy Darling was the opposite. She goes after whomever she can, completely innocent parties in order to make it seem like she had goals beyond herself. Where Regina lashed out defensively and often at great harm to herself (indeed most often the _only_ person she harmed was herself), the Darling woman had engaged in a crusade.

 

And the only thing you could expect from a crusade were casualties.

Perhaps he could form a new group, for individuals sympathetic to the cause but perhaps not as morally pure as the White kingdom would desire (hypocrites, the pair of them). Victor turned his collar up in response to the growing chill in the air. The nights were getting darker.

And though irrelevant to him, this would be a key detail to whomever was following him.

 

***

 

“Emma?” Tamara asked, unsure how to begin this conversation. Emma continued to keep her arms wrapped around Henry even as she faced her Home Office partner.

“What is it now?”

“I need…to talk to you. And it isn’t good news, but you deserve to know.” Tamara began to ramble. At this Emma paid more attention. The woman was shaking, unable to look her in the eye. Whatever the news was, it wasn’t good. Fearing the worst for Regina she swallowed.

“Tamara, what is it?” She asked, voice breaking.

“Not here. I don’t know who might be listening. Let’s go to the diner. Bring Henry.” She said, spinning on her heel and marching off in that direction. Henry pulled away from Emma.

“Ma, do you think it’s…?”

“There’s only one way to find out.” Emma said, resolving herself to whatever she was about to hear.

The bell dinged in quick succession as Emma and Henry followed Tamara into the diner. They ignored the concerned glances from both Ruby and Mulan and all three slid into a booth. Tamara sighed, hiding her face in her hands.

“Tamara _please–_ “

“What do you know about Tinkerbell, Emma?”

“The fairy, from Peter Pan?” Emma asked, not liking where this was going after the story that she’d just heard.

“Yes, the fairy from Peter Pan but also an assassin under the employ of the Home Office.”

“Tinkerbell is an assassin?” Henry asked incredulously. Tamara smiled weakly at him in response. She waved Ruby over, ordering a milkshake. Henry asked for one too, but Emma just shook her head impatiently.

“Tamara…”

“I’m sorry. Tinkerbell is only used in the most awful of cases… I told you that I’m not comfortable with some aspects of the job Swan. Tinkerbell is numbers one through five. I’ve received word that Tinkerbell is coming here, to Storybrooke.”

Emma’s blood ran cold. She began mentally working her way through the list of probable targets. At the top of the list was Ruby.

“Emma, that isn’t all…”

“What, Tamara do you know who she’s after? Because I swear…”

“I didn’t hear much. It doesn’t work that way. But enough. The word’s ‘truest believer’ have been mentioned repeatedly. Swan, I think she’s coming for Henry”

Emma reached for her son and pulled her to him as if the assassin was in the diner with them. Tamara wasn’t finished, with tears in her eyes she continued.

“You don’t have much reason to trust me Emma. I wouldn’t, in your shoes, but we’re partners and that _means_ something to me. I swear to you that I won’t let anything happen to him. I’ll protect him with my life if need be.”

Emma nodded stiffly but Ruby rushed over to the booth, having caught snatches of the conversation thanks to her improved hearing.

“Why is she promising to protect Henry? Emma?”

Emma, for once, had no words.

 

*

 

Victor smiled grimly as he noticed Marco in front of him. Looking behind him, he was unsurprised to see Moe French. Supposedly Spencer did not wish to get his hands dirty. Royals, they’re all the fucking same when it came down to it. No matter, he could take the two men.

“Good evening, gentlemen!” He called, “If you’ll excuse me, I feel the cold more than I used to and wish to get home.”

“You’re not going anywhere, Frankenstein,” Marco spat, stalking towards him. He couldn’t hear French move so Victor kept his eyes on the more immediate threat.

“Is that so? If you have a medical complaint Marco, then feel free to visit the hospital. I’m not on call right now but there are plenty of other trained professionals there…”

Marco stopped suddenly.

“You’ve chosen the wrong side Frankenstein. You could have helped the Home Office; I wouldn’t doubt it to be within your… _skillset”_ he sneered, “instead, certain actions now have to be taken.”

“And what actions would these be, exactly?” Victor asked, suddenly feeling like he was in over his head.

He wasn’t paying attention when the shot rang out.


	12. One Milkshake, Please.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did I intend to have this go on for longer than a year?  
> Absolutely not.   
> Is this still going to be finished?  
> You bet.

Ruby threw Tamara into the kitchen counter, pots and pans clattering to the floor. Emma winced, the other patrons would no doubt have heard that and the last thing she needed, that _Henry_ needed was to draw the attention of the Home Office now.

“I’m going to kill you!”

“She’s trying to help me Ruby! She’s on our side!”

“Hen, she isn’t on anyone’s side but her own. Why would she come tell us about this _now_ unless she was leading us into a trap?”

Emma stared at the women, spread out on the floor. She was almost in tears, but she did not look afraid.

“Emma, I swear to you. On my _mother’s life._ I’m not playing you.”

Emma felt a headache coming on.

“I believe her,” she said, softly. It was however, loud enough for Ruby to hear.

“Excuse me?”

“I don’t think she’s lying about this Ruby.”

Ruby whirled to face the blonde, a look of betrayal on her face.

“She’s one of them Emma! You know what they’ve done, to all of us. To _Regina.”_

Ignoring Tamara’s look of surprise Emma slammed her fist against the counter, making Henry jump.

“She wanted justice Ruby! For her mom… that’s all. She’s been fucked over just as badly as any of us and quite frankly, if she saves the life of my _son_ then I’m pretty fucking happy to call it quits! She just… she wanted to save her _mom_ Ruby.”

Ruby closed her eyes, knowing exactly what Emma was trying to do. Wolves were pack animals after all.

Her instincts were telling her one thing, but a member of her pack was telling her something else. Ruby wasn’t sure who she should listen to.

 

*

 

Mulan thanked the woman at the register for her assistance in packing the shopping bags. Ashley, her name was. She bid her a good evening and stepped out into the balmy Storybrooke night.

After discussing Whale’s story, Ruby had decided that pints of ice cream were in order and Mulan was only too happy to give her lover what she wanted.

And they were out of mint chocolate chip.

Suddenly, Mulan’s phone buzzed in her pocket. She juggled with her bags, attempting to pull the damned thing from her pocket. It was a message from Ruby, asking her to return to the diner as soon as possible. The woman knew that Mulan was only getting ice cream. Something must have happened. Trying not to worry until she learnt more, Mulan nevertheless sped up.

Straight into someone she had no desire to be around.

“Good evening, Fa Mulan.” Belle greeted. Mulan marvelled at the flatness of her tone. It was as if all life had been sucked from the woman. Perhaps it had been, she considered.

“Good evening Ms French,” Mulan replied, attempting to step around her, but Belle blocked the way.

“I could have been Mrs Gold once,” she noted, the barest hint of… something in her voice.

“I… I am sorry.” Mulan was. She did not know The Dark One and through tales of his exploits had decided she had no wish to, but she was sorry. She couldn’t imagine losing Ruby.

“No matter, que sera and all that. Like tonight. An ill wind is blowing Fa Mulan.”

Mulan blinked. This was the most Belle had spoken in years. She continued to marvel at that when she saw something which caught her interest. Victor Whale going into an alley, followed closely by Moe French. Mulan wanted to return home as soon as possible but nothing good would come from that meeting, and her sense of duty could no let her ignore it. Whale was a comrade, duplicitous though he was and she would not abandon a comrade. Sighing, Mulan made to follow the men.

“I think I want a milkshake,” Belle mumbled, walking the other way.

 

*

 

This wasn’t going well, Henry thought to himself. Everyone had stopped threatening each other, just about, but now they were left discussing how to save him from being murdered by a skilled assassin.

The discussions were not going well.

“I have safe houses all over the country, I can take Henry – “

“To a _Home Office_ safe house, you mean? You’re not going _anywhere_ with Henry!” Ruby interrupted. She had begun to pace, eyes yellow. Henry was just glad that Tamara was the target at this point in time.

“It’s not a _Home Office_ safe house! Do you think I’m fucking stupid?!”

“Do you want me to answer that?!”

Emma sighed, because someone had to be the adult in the room and apparently, everyone had designated her. _God,_ she missed Regina.

“Both of you please, _please,_ shut the fuck up.”

They both looked at her, opening their mouths at the same time. Emma rolled her eyes.

“Nope, because you see if you’re talking then you’re not _shutting the fuck up._ Now, I appreciate your attempts Tamara, I really do, but do you seriously think that any safe house you own isn’t _also_ known to the Home Office?”

With that her mouth snapped shut, but Emma wasn’t done.

“And _you_. Tone it the fuck down, because if you wolf out before Tinkerbell… and the fact that _Tinkerbell_ of all fucking people is an assassin just further proves me right about all this being _bullshit_ by the way… but if I have to beat your wolf ass before she even gets here and you are of no use to me then I swear I will put you in a kennel.”

Emma was breathing heavily after her little rant. Ruby stared at her, lips pursed.

“A kennel, Em? Seriously?”

At that they both doubled over, laughing uproariously. Emma wiped the tears from her eyes.

“I got too excited to build properly to the climax.”

“It’s alright, I suppose it’s been awhile,” Ruby said, smirking.

“Seriously Ma?!” Henry asked, contemplating taking his chances with Tinkerbell.

“I agree with the kid,” Tamara asked, lip curled in disgust.

“You’re not allowed a vote.”

“I think she’s allowed a vote,” Henry said, helping Tamara up.

“Quiet. I hear voices out front. Granny and…someone else. A woman.”

And with that, the colour drained from Ruby’s face.

“She’s here.”

 

*

 

The first thing Mulan noticed was that Marco blocked the other side of the alley. _An ambush then,_ she concluded, hanging back a little.

“Good evening, gentlemen!” Whale called, “If you’ll excuse me, I feel the cold more than I used to and wish to get home.” Mulan couldn’t help but be impressed by the man’s lack of fear.

“You’re not going anywhere, Frankenstein,” Marco spat, stalking towards him. Mulan drew her gun, eyeing every move Marco made. She couldn’t get a clear shot at him from here.

“Is that so? If you have a medical complaint Marco, then feel free to visit the hospital. I’m not on call right now but there are plenty of other trained professionals there…”

Marco stopped suddenly, but there was still no clear shot. Mulan cursed.

“You’ve chosen the wrong side Frankenstein. You could have helped the Home Office; I wouldn’t doubt it to be within your… _skillset”_ Marco sneered, “instead, certain actions now have to be taken.” Mulan just about refrained from rolling her eyes.

“And what actions would these be, exactly?” Victor asked. Mulan could tell the bravado was beginning to disappear. And as well he should, considering Moe French had also started closing in.

There was no time left to make the decision. Mulan raised her gun and fired.

 

*

“You’re not getting through me, girl” Granny said to the newcomer. Blonde pixie cut, all dressed in black. Granny gave it six months before trusting Emma, and a full year for Mulan (the fact that she was _involved_ with Ruby did not influence her decision at all), so this girl stood no chance.

“I can go through you if you want, old woman.” Tinkerbell said, allowing herself a small smile.

“You want to say that again?” Ruby asked, bursting into the diner, the others following her. Emma’s fingers brushed the silver bracelet on her wrist. She’d promised Regina that she’d only take the bracelet off in dire circumstances. This certainly seemed to qualify. Ruby pulled her phone from her pocket, shooting off a text.

“Got something more important you need to be doing?” Tinkerbell asked, head tilted. Henry, in an attempt to distract her, took a step forward.

“You’re Henry,” she noted, voice soft. “I’m sorry about this – nothing personal, you know how it is.”

“Killing people? I don’t actually.” At that, Tinkerbell began to laugh. Ruby’s arm shot out, knocking Henry behind her.

“You don’t talk to him, you talk to me.”

At that, Tinkerbell stopped laughing. “You are all inconsequential to me. Even him,” Tinkerbell said. Ruby shoved Henry even further behind her. “All I need is his heart.”

“Well that isn’t going to happen” Tamara said, taking her place in front of the group. Tinkerbell’s head tilted toward the side.

“I know you. Work for the Home Office. Alright, I suppose you’re not inconsequential. I’ll be taking back his heart and _your_ body.” She said, stepping forward.

_Fuck’s sake Swan,_ Emma thought to herself, now running through every spell she’d ever learned from Regina. If they were to stand a chance, then Emma needed to be at full strength.

The only problem was, the fucking bracelet wasn’t coming off.

“Look, I’ve got a job to do, and I’d appreciate it if you were to get out of the way…” Tinkerbell said, pulling a large sword from a scabbard on her back. “But if you don’t, then you don’t.”

She managed a first step, and then another.

Tinkerbell did not manage a third.

Stood over the unconscious assassin, Belle stood, blood dripping from her hand due to the broken bottle.

“Good evening Granny,” she said, “I would like a milkshake.”

 


	13. In Storybrooke, Nothing is Ever Finished

The bell to the diner rang, and yet Ruby did not look up. She did not look up when footsteps approached the counter and she did not look up when someone coughed.

“Do you mind if I sit down?”

Ruby sighed, and finished off her drink. She shook her hair out and looked up. 

“Sure Victor, sit where you want.”

He took a seat and the two sat in silence for a while before Victor opened his mouth again.

“How is Mulan?” To which Ruby scoffed. Whale nodded repeatedly, swallowing. That was a stupid question.

“She saved my life.”

“She didn’t save Archie’s.” Victor swallowed again.

“She thinks she’s to blame?”

Ruby laughed and it contained more than a note of desperation. She reached for the bottle again but was stopped as Whale rested his hand on hers. Ruby clenched her jaw and looked away. When she next spoke, Whale had to strain to hear her.

“Of course she blames herself. And I don’t….” her voice cracked. Whale reached out and waited, his hand hovering over Ruby’s shoulder for a time before returning it back to his lap.

“I don’t know how to make her see that it’s not. I don’t know how to help her.”

“I’m not sure that you can.”

“You’re not helpful,”

“I never promised to be Red.” Whale got up, rounded the counter and pulled out another glass. Pouring drinks for the both of them. Ruby thanked him and sipped this one slower than the first four.

“Could you tell me what happened?” She asked, continuing faster at Victor’s wince, “I’m sorry. I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t important. I just want to – “

“I knew I was being followed…” Victor began lowly.

 

*

 

Mulan raised her gun and fired. Moe French collapsed with a scream, clutching his shoulder. Then everything happened very quickly. Victor whirled around, which left a gap open when Marco came to his senses and sent off a shot of his own. Mulan managed to get behind the wall before the shot went off.

 

Archie, who was taking Pongo for his nightly walk, was not so lucky.

 

Whale, working on instinct, charged at Marco and tackled him. Another shot went off but this travelled harmlessly into the brickwork, chunks showering Moe French. Victor wrestled the gun from Marco’s clutches and knocked him out with it.

 

Mulan raced over to Archie, crouching down. He was almost grey.

“Mulan…”

“Archie, hang on, your going – “

“You’re a soldier Mulan. You know what this looks like. I just… I have two requests, if you would be good enough to grant me them?”

“I… of course Archie. I would be honoured.”

“When Regina returns, please give her my best.” At that, Mulan did something she hadn’t done since childhood.

She began to cry.

“The second, Archie?” She asked, voice trying not to crack. This moment was not about her.

“Can you, look after Pongo? He doesn’t have anyone else…either you or Emma. I don’t mind whether you split custody,” he said, with a laugh that turned into a coughing fit. Mulan rested his head in her lap, hoping to make him as comfortable as possible.

“What have I done to you to wish the fate of a shared Pongo on me, Archie?”

“Nothing Mulan. You’ve been a… a good friend.”

“You are a good friend too Archie,” Mulan said, but he was no longer able to hear her.

 

*

 

Emma paced on the landing to her parents’ apartment. She pulled her phone from her pocket to check her latest text, from Henry. He had managed to catch up to Mulan and they were taking Pongo for a walk. Emma sighed, knowing that Henry had a good track record of bringing broken women out of their shells, but still wishing that she knew how to help Mulan herself. She somehow doubted that the usual offer of going out to the woods and shooting shit would help. She returned her phone to her pocket when the door opened and Snow appeared.

“Emma! Come in, I’ve just made a pot of coffee…”

“Thanks…mom,” Emma said, only slightly tripping over the words. She still didn’t quite feel it, but after what had happened, Emma had resolved to try getting over her anger. Life was too short, and things were about to get a whole lot worse.

She ignored Snow’s wide grin and made her way into the apartment. David, mouth full of pastry, waved and Emma couldn’t help but smile as he tried to swallow it down as quickly as he could with freshly brewed coffee which then immediately burnt his tongue.

“Emma! It’s good to see you!” He exclaimed, undeterred. Emma smiled wider and took a seat next to him. Snow soon joined them.

“To what do we owe this pleasure?” Snow asked, sharing a look with David.

Emma cleared her throat.

“I just… what happened was… and Mulan is… and Henry could’ve been killed if it wasn’t for _Belle_ of all people. I don’t know how you guys do it, that’s all. How you just kind of roll with it…?”

“Emma,” Snow said, voice soft, “some of the happiest times in my life were spent in a cabin miles from civilisation. Something I suspect you know a little about.”

Emma blushed bright red. She didn’t know they knew about the cabin.

“My best friends were sheep,” David added, nodding repeatedly. Snow bit her lip, trying not to laugh.

“Yes dear,” she pacified, “my point is, it’s not like we _enjoy_ the constant drama and threats on our life. But I’ve got your dad, the one person I can count on to have my back above anyone else,”

“Same. Not with me, but y’know, _you’re_ that for me.”

“I’m starting to see why I have so much trouble articulating emotions…” Emma said wryly.

“He’s good at other things,” Snow defended.

“Didn’t need to hear that mom!” to which Snow cackled in a way very reminiscent of the Evil Queen.

“What I’m saying is, I’m not surprised that you feel this way. I’ve got your dad. As much as it hurts, Mulan has Ruby to turn to, as soon as she lets her in. _Your_ partner has been taken from you. Honestly Emma, I’m in awe of you. For as much as our catchphrase is true, every time David isn’t near me I’m about five seconds away from losing it.”

Emma didn’t know what to say. She swallowed around the increasing lump in her throat.

“I… hadn’t thought about it that way. Thanks…mom” she said, and David chuckled.

“That’s my girl.” He said joyfully, and Emma punched him lightly but didn’t correct him.

“Has Belle got anything out of that woman yet?” Snow asked, face darkening.

“No, but she said she’s close to a location. I didn’t think you’d…”

“She was going to kill _Henry_ Emma,” David added, “Once Belle’s done, I’d like a word with this Tinkerbell myself.” Snow agreed with a nod.

“And once she has a location Emma, we’ll do whatever you need. We’re getting Regina back.”

 

_THREE AND A HALF YEARS AGO_

“Could we just stay here?” Emma said, joining Regina on the porch. She wrapped her arms around her from behind and Regina sighed happily.

“What about Henry?”

“He can make monthly visits,” Emma said, laughing as Regina pinched her hip. “Okay, _okay,_ weekly visits.”

“I wish we could my love, I don’t like the reports I’m hearing.”

“What reports are you hearing?” Emma asked, kissing up Regina’s neck and jawline until Regina turned in Emma’s arms.

“Not reports, not really. More like whispers. All amounting to the same thing. I don’t think the Home Office are done with Storybrooke yet.”

Emma resisted the urge to swear and nodded, her grip on Regina tightening. In this town, nothing was ever finished.

“If that’s the case Gina, then we’ll face them. We’ll face whatever is coming for us. Together.”

 

*

 

“You’re beginning to bore me” Belle noted, slurping on a milkshake.

“My apologies,” Tinkerbell replied breathlessly. It had been hours and the things this woman had done to her while she was strapped to this chair, well… Tinkerbell did not impress easily, but this woman, Belle, was unhinged. She’d have liked to have worked together.

“Tink – can I call you Tink?”

“You may not.”

“I’m going to level with you, Tink,” Belle continued, “I don’t care where it is, whether in Baltimore or New York…”

There was a twitch. Slight, but it was there. Belle was almost disappointed – the assassin had held out this long, to give the game away so cheaply…

She’d make her pay for it.

Once her other business was done.

“Thank you.”

“Excuse me?”

“Well you’ve just revealed that the Home Office HQ is in New York, which will make Swan happy. Maybe even happy enough that we can continue our fun together. Oh, but not yet friend!” Belle exclaimed as Tinkerbell showed, for the first time in her life, fear. “I have to see someone else first. You see Tink,” Belle said, clapping her hands once and then beginning to pace. “You see I liked Archie, he wanted to help me. He couldn’t of course, but it was nice of him to offer. If I could feel, I would feel sad about his death. Mostly I just want to cause pain to the man who did it. You know who did it, Tink?”

Tinkerbell shook her head.

“His name is Marco. Which is fortunate Tink, because I already wanted to cause pain to this man. I see the way people look at me, the things they whisper. Well Marco had a son, made from wood. And once already Marco ruined everything in order to save his son. The second time, it came a lot easier. See, the son – Pinocchio – although that might have been obvious, he was turning back into wood. And Marco got involved in things he shouldn’t...Am I boring you?” Belle asked, sharply.

Tinkerbell jerked back into consciousness. She blinked several times. Belle tutted and reached for the knife.

“No… I was listening…” Tinkerbell protested. Belle sighed.

“Fine. So, Marco found a spell that would stop Pinocchio turning into a doorstop. Except rule number one Tink! All magic has a price! These people have been told so many times and they never. Fucking. Learn! I can sympathise with the Home Office on that, at least. So, Marco, he says the spell and it all works the way he wanted. Not, however, the way I wanted. See this particular spell would reverse someone turning to wood on the outside, but there was a…transference. Someone _became_ wood on the inside. Me, I was talking about me Tinkerbell in case you weren’t keeping up.”

“I gathered”

“It’s just I know you’ve lost a lot of blood.”

“Well thanks,” Tinkerbell said dryly. She knew the next time she lost consciousness would be the last. Upon reflection, she regretted the choices that had led her to this town in Maine.

“No problem. Thanks for listening. I’ve got to go now though, people to kill…you know how it is.”

“I wish you well,” Tinkerbell said. And she did.

 

*

 

“We’ve got to stop meeting like this Kid,” Emma said, taking a seat on the bench next to Jack.

“Emma, I don’t know what to… I can’t believe that fucker killed Archie – “

“It’s not your fault Kid,”

“If I’d have come to you sooner. _Trusted_ you sooner then maybe,”

“It _isn’t_ your fault. The only one to blame for Marco’s actions is Marco and trust me when I tell you that he’ll pay for what he did.”

“He should pay for it in our way.”

Emma sighed. She knew what the punishment would have been back in the Enchanted Forest, but she was the one trying to convince everyone they weren’t _in_ the Enchanted Forest. She didn’t know what to do for the best, and until she did Marco would stay in the cells at the station, guarded around the clock. Just as soon as she got back.

“That isn’t why I’m here. I’ve got a favour to ask you Kid?”

Jack sat up eagerly. “Anything Emma, what can I do?”

“Look out for Henry. Things will start moving quickly now and I’ll have to leave to – “

“Get Regina back?”

“You won’t call her that once she’s back,” Emma said with a smile, “but yes. To get Regina back. And I’ll need people looking out for Henry.”

Jack nodded, looking much older than his age.

“You can count on the Lost Boys Emma. You can count on me.”

 

*

 

Emma was on her way back to the station when she saw Mulan, talking to Henry in the street. She sped up to join them.

“Henry, why don’t you go get something to eat at the diner? We’ll join you in a little while.” Henry nodded and took Pongo with him. Emma stood in silence, searching for something to say.

“Don’t strain yourself Swan,” Mulan murmured.

“Mulan, I…do you want to shoot some stuff?” Emma asked, clutching at straws. Mulan stared at her incredulously for a while and then began to laugh.

“Emma, you have perhaps the least amount of tact of anyone I have ever met. But yes, I would like to shoot something. Maybe once we’ve ate?”

Emma exhaled in relief and nodded. Food and then shooting stuff she could handle.

 

The two women crossed the road and entered the diner together, talking the entire time. Ruby looked up at the bell, but stayed over by the counter, not sure how to greet Mulan. Emma nudged her forward with enough force that Mulan took a couple of steps forward. Glaring at Emma, she crossed the room while Emma went to join Henry.

“I’m sorry for the way I’ve been acting, love.” She said, pulling Ruby into a hug.

“No, you’ve had a lot to deal with. I’m here though, when you want to talk…” Ruby whispered in her ear.

“Soon love, I promise. Shall we join Emma and Henry?”

“I’d love to,” Ruby said, squeezing Mulan once tightly and then went over to the Swan-Mills family, dragging Mulan behind her.

“Move over Em,” she said, sliding in next to Emma in the booth while Mulan sat with Henry.

“So Mulan and I… oh can I not have _one meal?_ ” Emma asked, head falling into her hands. The three looked around to see Belle standing next to their table.

“I’ve found where the Home Office is located,” she said.

“Excuse me?” Ruby asked incredulously.

“I’ve found where the Home Office is – “

“I believe we heard you the first time,” Mulan said.

“Then why did she –?”

“Where is it?” Emma asked, unwilling to let the conversation go on any longer. Not when she was so close. From under the table, Henry grabbed her hand. She spared him a glance and squeezed but turned back to Belle.

“They’re in New York.”

There was a silence.

“I guess we’re going to New York then,” Henry said weakly.

 

*

 

“You can’t go Henry, it’ll be too dangerous.”

“You don’t get to stop me, that’s Ma’s decision – “

“And I agree with Snow, Henry. We finally get your mom back and risk losing you in the process? Not happening.”

“Fine! Keep me out of the loop, like always.” He spat, shoving his chair away from the table and stalking out of the library. Emma made to follow him but Mulan stopped her.

“I’ll go after him.”

Snow went over to Emma, resting her hand on her shoulder and a small part of her was pleased when Emma let her.

“He’ll come around Emma. Once Regina is home.”

“I know… so, what’s the plan?”

“We’re going to New York. You and me.” Ruby said decisively.

“Ruby, I can’t ask you to – “

“You’re not asking me Em. And you’ll need someone with my abilities with you.”

Emma conceded the point. She began running through things they would need. They just had to hope they’d get there in time, before the Home Office found out about Tinkerbell.

“Ok, so the two of us – “

“Three of us,” a voice said, and the room all rose from their seats at once. “Relax,” Tamara said, “I’m not here as a member of the Home Office. I… I want to help.”

“No…there’s no way you’re coming with us, is she Emma…Emma?”

Emma was silent, thinking. She looked up to her parents. They both nodded at her.

“Yeah she is, Rubes.”

 

*

 

Marco couldn’t believe it had ended this way. It was all Spencer’s fault – he’d all but commanded that they take things into their own hands. He hadn’t meant to hurt the cricket. He wanted Whale! God, what a mess he’d made of things.

 

Marco looked around the cell. He was meant to be on the side of the good! Yet every time he was forced to make the hard decision, he faltered. Faltered, and failed. But it had all been for Pi – for August! For his son, who had taken off on his motorcycle the first chance he got. Marco sighed.

 

“I’ve been waiting for you,” he said to Belle.

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
